


A Chance Encounter

by sanguisuga



Series: Alpha/Omega Classifieds [3]
Category: BBC Sherlock, Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: -ish?, A Chance Meeting, ABO dynamics, AU of an AU, Aftercare, Alpha Greg, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Banter, Barebacking, Because Myc is a Bastard, Becomes So Much More, Being Stupidly Cute, Biting, Bodily Fluids Everywhere, Bonding, But He's Greg's Bastard, Dirty Talk, Doubt and Uncertainty, Feeding Kink, Flirting, George Approves, Heat Sex, Infidelity, Jealousy, M/M, Making Out, Masturbation, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Not gonna happen, Omega Mycroft, Omegaverse, Oral Sex, Possessiveness, Rimming, Scent Marking, Scenting, Schmoop, Self-Lubrication, Single White Omega Seeking Alpha, Snogging, So that's okay, Sorry Not Sorry, Sort of? - Freeform, Soulmates, Spanking, Teasing, Texting, What if they had ignored Sherlock?, Yay For Biological Impossibilities, but just a little bit, but no mpreg, machinations, mystrade, welcome home blowjob
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-18
Updated: 2018-08-28
Packaged: 2018-12-03 17:08:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 30,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11536662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sanguisuga/pseuds/sanguisuga
Summary: An Alternate Universe of my most popular fic - A Single White Omega Seeking Alpha. In this one, we see what might have happened if Greg and Mycroft had not allowed Sherlock to interfere with their natural attraction to each other when they first met.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [NixxieFic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NixxieFic/gifts).



> This piece is for the delightful NixxieFic, who bid on me in the recent [Rupert Graves Birthday Auction](http://rupertgravesbirthdayproject.tumblr.com/)! Her generous donation went toward the charity [Theirworld.](http://theirworld.org/)
> 
> She wanted Mystrade and Omegaverse, and I said, 'Hey, what if...' and then the muse was off and running! As always, comments are super-duper appreciated!

Mycroft Holmes sat in the back of his car, twirling his umbrella between his knees and fretting. Although there didn’t seem to be too much potential for danger in Sherlock’s newest obsession, he still found it necessary to keep his little brother in check. Mycroft had unfortunately been reassigned with the task, much to his endless exasperation. Anthea had finally reached the limits of her patience in attempting to keep track of his wayward younger sibling and had quite literally foisted the project right back into his lap. He was still finding papers and random photos scattered about his office a few days after her little strop.

George cleared his throat from the driver’s seat to bring Mycroft out of his introspective fugue, meeting his employer’s eyes in the rear-view mirror to ensure that he was once again fully present. Mycroft gave him a perfunctory glare, but as the car was slowing to a stop, his driver paid very little attention. Not that it really mattered all that much - Mycroft was displeased to note that his patented glares didn't seem to provoke much of a response from either of his closest companions these days. He sighed as he looked out on the scene of an apparent crime, yellow tape stretched over the mouth of the alleyway and people in blue paper suits scattered all about with various instruments in hand. Mycroft flinched slightly as George opened the door for him, as the first sound he heard was the unholy screeching of his brother’s voice.

“But _why_ can’t I speak with the witnesses? I’ll be able to get more information out of them than your insipid detectives ever could! I’m _better_ than they are and you _know_ it!”

Mycroft glanced away from the crime scene and took a step toward Sherlock’s voice, only to come to a screeching halt as he got his first good look at the remarkably attractive man that he was haranguing. Leaning heavily on his umbrella for support, he dropped his eyes to the pavement at the man’s feet, taking in a stabilising breath that completely failed to serve its purpose as he unwittingly took in the Alpha’s heady scent right along with it. He watched with eyes lowered as the odd grey shoes turned in his direction, as they moved toward him slowly, almost as if in a dream.

George was suddenly at his side, one hand closing gently around his elbow as if in support, the tension in his fingers that of a bodyguard on full alert. “Sir?”

Mycroft lifted his eyes slowly, cataloguing the sturdy trousers, shiny in the knee (practical - definitely not a clotheshorse), the hint of muscular thighs (regular exercise), a bit of softness in the belly above the waistband of his trousers (just the right amount oh no), the chunky fingers (wedding band, badly scratched, not well maintained, no love lost there oh hallelujah), the hint of a pleasant amount of chest hair peeking out from a rumpled collar (salt and pepper yes oh yes).

Mycroft’s gaze darted over the man’s face, blinking rapidly at the strong jaw, bristly with the late afternoon overgrowth, the small specks of silver in it seeming to make his cheeks glow. And his hair, oh that beautifully thick shiny silver mop, casually mussed and almost unbearably fetching. Finally meeting the man’s dark brown eyes, blown wide with undisguised desire, Mycroft’s entire body jolted as if shot through with lightning.

Mycroft murmured a low curse as the Alpha took another step toward him, his hand beginning to raise in his direction. “Well, _fuck_.”

George stiffened even further next to him in his shock. Mycroft Holmes never cursed. Well, almost never. He looked between the two men that were held in some kind of agonising tableau, frozen between instinct and propriety. A sudden realisation hit him as his employer took in a heavy breath through his nose, watching as the stranger did the same, both of them swaying on the spot. _“Oh.”_ George let his hand fall, taking a small step out of Mycroft’s personal space and looking the man over again, this time with clear approval. “Oh, but that’s bloody well more like it.”

This caught Mycroft’s attention, and he tilted his head to the side in a silent query, only to draw back as his driver-slash-bodyguard _twinkled_ at him in a rather infuriating fashion. He snorted with disbelief as George made a gesture toward the object of his bewildered fascination, a clear _‘well, get on with it...’_ that he had absolutely no idea what to do with. Instead he redirected his gaze over the Alpha’s shoulder to where his brother was standing, absurdly pop-eyed and wide-mouthed, thankfully silent for once in his misbegotten life. But of course as Sherlock noted that Mycroft’s attention had been diverted, however temporarily, he started to draw himself up, preparing for a verbal battle.

“George.”

With the curt syllable being uttered, George gave out a brief hoot of laughter. “On it, sir.” He slipped away from Mycroft’s side, weaving a wide path around the Alpha as the look the man was giving him was anything but friendly. Taking Sherlock’s upper arm in a firm grip, he adroitly steered him away from the two men and toward a nearby café. “Well if it isn’t Mr. Holmes the Younger! Come on then, it’s been a while, hasn’t it? Let’s say we catch up, hm?”

“Unhand me, you cretin!”

Mycroft allowed himself a brief moment of triumph before meeting the Alpha’s eyes once again, and then they were drifting together as though drawn by invisible hooks until they were standing barely an arm’s length apart. Neither one of them extended a hand to shake, instinctively knowing that to touch would only lead to a very public and potentially terribly embarrassing display.

“Mycroft Holmes.”

“Lestrade.” The Alpha shook his head slightly as if to clear it. “Greg.”

Mycroft felt his balance slip just a little bit more at the sound of his voice, deep and rough and utterly divine. His belly swooped as he took in more of his scent, sharp with spice and musk, healthy and clean - a perfect specimen.

A perfect mate. _‘Fuckfuckfuck...’_

“Christ.” Lestrade shrugged helplessly as Mycroft quirked an eyebrow at him. “You - I’ve never...”

Mycroft attempted a saucy smirk. “Never encountered an Omega out in the wild, as it were?”

“Never met an Omega.”

Mycroft jolted as Lestrade stared at him in open wonder. “N-never?”

He shook his head as if in a daze. “Caught the odd whiff here and there, but never like this. You...” Lestrade dropped his eyes briefly. “You’re beautiful.” He lifted his left hand to his mouth as Mycroft sucked in a sharp breath, wiping at the corners of his lips. “And Jesus fuck but you smell _delicious_.” He tilted his hand as Mycroft eyed his wedding band, glancing at it and meeting his eyes without shame.

Mycroft did his best to swallow down his nerves, rocking forward slightly. “Dinner?”

Lestrade showed his teeth, strong and white. “Starving.”

They both indulged in a brief bout of giggles, coming to a stuttering halt as Lestrade glanced over his shoulder at the crime scene and also at the members of the team that were beginning to take more of an interest in the apparent stand-off between their boss and a somewhat imposing stranger. Mycroft slipped a card from the inner pocket of his jacket along with a slimline pen, hastily scribbling out his address and personal mobile number.

“Call me when you’re done here - the time doesn’t matter. I often work late myself. I feel we have much to - discuss.”

“Agreed.” Lestrade tried to arrange his features into something business-like, but the trembling in his fingers as he reached for the card handily betrayed him.

“I could send George to fetch you, if that would be easier.”

“George.” Lestrade’s brow darkened momentarily, making a swift thrill cascade down Mycroft’s spine. “Was that...” He tossed his head in the direction of the café.

Mycroft pursed his lips, attempting to hide his pleased grin. “My driver.”

“Seemed a bit cosier than that.”

His voice was but a low growl, and Mycroft shuddered as he hesitated, battling his innate need for secrecy over the befuddling desire to placate Lestrade’s overt jealousy. “I occupy a minor role in the British government, and occasionally require the services of a bodyguard. He’s been with me for many years now.” He fluttered his eyelashes at Lestrade’s faint glower, absolutely tickled pink at his apparent propensity toward possessiveness - even before having him at all. “I can supply his dossier, if that would ease your mind any.”

“Cheeky monkey.” Mycroft swallowed down the unseemly noise that was bubbling up in his throat as Lestrade grinned at him, open and bright and devilishly handsome. “But no - I’ll find my own way to you.”

Mycroft clutched at his umbrella a bit tighter, taking a hesitant step back. “I’ll be waiting.”

“Yes.” Lestrade reluctantly turned away, glancing back over his shoulder, his eyes dark and compelling. “Yes, you will.”


	2. Chapter 2

Mycroft shuddered as the Alpha walked away, his head held high and shoulders abnormally tight as he clearly fought the urge to come running back to him. Turning back to the car, he was a trifle surprised to find George holding the passenger door open for him, but as he approached, he heard a muffled thump come from behind the darkened windows in the back and the reason became clear.

“Thought it might be best to keep his royal pain in the arse tucked away for a bit so your man there could get some serious work done and get back to you soonest.”

“George, it’s healthier for your career and other - considerations - if you do not make such assumptions. Best not let your imagination run away with you.”

“Right you are, Mr. Holmes.” George clicked his heels together. “Home, then? So you can get something in the oven and change the bed linens?”

Mycroft rolled his eyes and slipped into the passenger seat. “Do shut up.” He coughed discreetly. “But yes - and quickly, if you please.” He ignored the delighted little giggle that got cut off as the car door closed with a firm thump, but it was quite impossible not to notice George’s rather balletic twirl as he crossed in front of the car to reach the driver’s side. Mycroft valiantly tried not to take the bait, but as his driver seemed to be continuing his odd dance routine even as he pulled the car out into traffic with his leg jiggling merrily and his shoulders swaying to an inaudible beat, he simply could not hold back on his curiosity.

“Oh, for God’s sake.” George glanced over at him for a moment as there was a series of rattling thumps on the privacy divider behind them and then a period of sullen but blessed silence. “Do tell me what’s on your mind, George. Or shall I get Anthea to beat it out of you?”

“Not necessary, sir.” Mycroft waited somewhat impatiently as his driver shimmied again, his eyes going distant as he gathered his thoughts. “I’m just...” There was another brief look, followed by a merry quirk of George’s usually stern lips. “I’m happy for you, sir. That’s all.”

Mycroft swallowed, turning his attention to his own fidgeting fingers. “And why would that be?” He tried to shrug off the butterflies in his belly, knowing that it was all but impossible. “It was just a chance encounter - no reason to think it meant anything at all. My next heat isn’t even due for another three months.”

“Begging your pardon, sir - but that’s bullshit.” George chuckled quietly at Mycroft’s outraged glare. “That ‘chance encounter’ meant everything, and you know it. That’s why you’re nearly frightened out of your wits right now.” George lifted a conciliatory hand and waved it in Mycroft’s direction as he started to puff up in outrage. “Just hear me out, if you would.” Mycroft fumed silently as George pulled into his circular drive and parked the car, turning the engine off before shifting in his seat to face him indirectly.

“I understand that our relationship is meant to be professional and nothing more. But we’ve been in some pretty tight places together over the years - we’ve had to rely on one another to get us _out_ of those places with our lives intact.” He smiled ruefully. “Even if our bodies weren’t always in perfect condition by the time it was all over.” George met Mycroft’s eyes, his expression stern and yet kind. “Things like that bring people together, Mr. Holmes. We may not be friends, but we are family - whether you choose to acknowledge it or not.” George winked at Mycroft’s shocked expression. “And as your family, I want good things for you. I want you to be happy.”

Mycroft attempted an icy sneer. “I don’t need an _Alpha_ to make me happy.”

George sighed heavily. “No, Mr. Holmes, you do not. And I’m not saying that letting him into your life will suddenly make it all sunshine and rainbows and fuzzy little kittens. I just think that if you give him the chance, he could maybe make your world a bit brighter, that’s all. Give you something to look forward to at the end of the day.” His expression turned a bit cheeky. “Give you something to smile about, you old sourpuss.”

Mycroft rolled his eyes, slowly deflating as he let out his pent-up air. He plucked fitfully at an invisible bit of fluff off the handle of his umbrella, putting on a not at all convincing air of nonchalance. “Why this one? You’ve met nearly all of my previous heat-mates and never reacted like this to any of them." He tilted his head toward his driver, narrowing his eyes slightly. "What does this particular Alpha have that the others didn’t?”

George hissed under his breath. “Tedious, self-important fools, the whole lot of ‘em - weak! Walking around with their chests puffed out like they have a right to you, and none of ‘em with even an ounce of respect in their whole overblown heads. That’s the difference, sir - respect.” Mycroft hummed noncommittally, even as some of the knot in his chest started to unravel. “He was struck a bit dumb by you, but he didn’t look at you like you were a thing to own, or to fear. He looked at you like a person - a particularly fascinating person, I’ll admit, but that’s a damn sight better than any of the rest.” George chuckled quietly. “And even though he didn’t like me touching you, no - not one tiny little bit - he didn’t yell or bluster or try to shove his way in between us.” He paused, tilting his head from side to side. “Granted, if looks could kill, I wouldn’t be here chatting with you right now, but I still have to give the man his due.”

Mycroft allowed himself a small smile, recalling the respectful distance that Lestrade had maintained between them, how he had extended his hand and then withdrawn as he seemed to think better of it. How his dark eyes had been hungry and yet calm, his posture open but his responses tightly controlled. And even though Mycroft had long ago come to the conclusion that he simply would not find a suitable mate among any of the Alphas available in the greater London area, he had to admit that there was something intriguing about this Gregory Lestrade. And oddly enough, having George’s tacit approval was proving to be a bit of a boon to his troubled spirit.

After all, they were family.

He tapped his umbrella against his shoes before reaching for the door handle. “Thank you, George. I will certainly take what you’ve said into consideration.”

“Any time, sir. Would you like for me to run a security check just to be thorough?”

Mycroft tilted his head and considered, but only briefly. “Seeing as how you are responsible for said security, please feel free to do so if it would ease your mind any. But I do not believe I will need to see it.”

George grinned wildly. “Understood, sir.” He tapped on the divider, causing a great flurry of muffled activity in the backseat. “And this one?”

Mycroft sighed heavily. “Oh, just push the whole lot into the Thames, would you? Save us all a great deal of fuss and bother.”

“Right you are, sir.” George tipped his employer a rather saucy wink as Mycroft slid out of the car and closed the door behind him, watching him drive off to deliver his troublesome burden - elsewhere. Then he trotted up the stairs to his front door, debating whether to go simple or flashy for dinner, as if it were actually necessary to impress anyone.


	3. Chapter 3

Thankfully Mycroft had all of the ingredients on hand for one of his favourite dishes, something that was easy to assemble and could be finished off in only a few minutes. Waiting for Lestrade to call was truly an exercise in patience, and Mycroft wasn’t even sure how many times he had gone up and down the stairs, flitting into his bedroom to ensure that everything looked (and smelled) perfect before coming back down to the kitchen only to wipe down the worktop for the fifteenth time that night.

Although he had spent his heats with various Alphas over the years, he had never entertained one, and it was rather infuriating to discover that just the mere idea had turned him into some kind of nervous ninny. But then, it wasn’t like he had any experience when it came to any kind of dating whatsoever. Wait - was that what this was? A date? Oh God, he really was in over his head, wasn’t he?

Quite determined not to let his anxiety get the better of him, Mycroft went into the sitting room and turned on the television, queueing up one of his favourite films. He had seen it dozens if not hundreds of times, but it never failed to calm his spirit even though the premise was hardly a sedate one. He was able to successfully tune out everything but the action on the screen, rolling his head on his shoulders as the tension leached away. Mouthing along with the dialogue during a particularly dramatic scene, he very nearly missed the buzzing of his mobile’s text alert. Taking in a deep breath, Mycroft reached for his phone and read the message.

_‘Wrapping up here. Should be at yours in half-hour or so.’_

Right. Taking a moment to save the contact in his mobile, he left the movie playing and put the casserole back in the oven to finish cooking, uncorking a bottle of red wine to breathe a bit on the worktop. Mycroft dithered a moment as he looked down at himself, still in the suit that he had worn to the office that morning; not exactly disheveled but not pristine, either. He didn’t think Lestrade would necessarily take much notice of what he was wearing, but if he wanted to appear a bit more comfortable in his own home, he supposed he should at least don more casual attire.

The decision made, he headed upstairs to change, feeling oddly off-kilter in a snug pair of slacks and a hunter green cashmere jumper that complemented his pale complexion very nicely indeed. Surveying himself briefly in the wardrobe’s full-length mirror, Mycroft ran a hand through his hair and surprised himself by turning around to give his own backside an appreciative leer. Giggling at himself faintly, he gave everything one last appraising look and then went downstairs to wait for his guest.

When the knock finally came, everything was ready - the table set and the casserole being kept warm in the oven, the television in the sitting room silenced and a freshly-filled decanter of scotch awaiting their pleasure after the meal. Taking in a deep breath, Mycroft smoothed his hands down the front of his jumper before reaching out to open the door.

The fortifying breath he had just taken left his body in an undignified rush as he looked at the man standing just beyond. He was clearly worn down by a long day, his shoulders somewhat slumped and dark eyes weary. But he was still the most gorgeous thing that Mycroft had ever laid eyes on, his silver hair glistening with the mist that had just started to fall.

“Mycroft.”

“Gregory.” Mycroft bit his lip as Lestrade’s eyes fluttered at the sound of his name. He ducked his head sheepishly and stepped back from the door as Greg tilted his head meaningfully. “Oh yes - please do come in.” He reached out to take Lestrade’s damp mackintosh as he shimmied it off his shoulders, hanging it up next to the door. His fingers trembled as Lestrade turned to him, feeling the heat of his body as he stepped close. Mycroft swayed toward him, casting his eyes downward bashfully. “I apologise - I don’t entertain often.”

“Good.” Mycroft glanced up as he caught motion out of the corner of his eye, watching Greg’s hand as it moved toward his face. “May I?” He blinked rapidly and nodded eagerly, unsure of what his intention was, but desperate to finally feel his touch. They both shivered as the Alpha’s fingers made contact with his skin, as he cupped his jaw and slid his thumb over his bottom lip. “So soft...”

He moved closer still, and for a moment it seemed to Mycroft as though the earth had tilted, as his legs nearly buckled underneath him. Then those rough but gentle lips touched his, and he truly lost all sense of time and direction, letting Greg move him until he was pressed between the door and his body, simply holding on as his head swam with bliss.

His kisses were firm and authoritative, but not greedy or brutal. Hungry, yes - Mycroft could practically taste his want, his nearly overwhelming _need_ , but at no point did he feel like Lestrade was going to take more than he was prepared to give. Not that he wasn’t willing to give him everything - a fact that surprised him more than he was likely to admit. He opened his mouth as Greg swiped his tongue over his lips, gasping into his mouth as he delved deep. Mycroft moaned low in his chest as he reached up to take hold of the Alpha’s lustrous hair, winding his fingers into it and holding fast. Greg growled and rocked his hips forward, making Mycroft damn near see stars as their erections ground against each other.

The intensity of his arousal surprised him - he was obviously no blushing virgin, but this was an entirely different sensation than he was used to. During his heat, his urges were base and animalistic, the need to be filled simply an itch that he was desperate to have scratched. This was something much more elemental than that, an unbearably sweet ache so deep inside, throbbing with each beat of his heart.

God, but he never wanted it to end.


	4. Chapter 4

Mycroft whined unhappily as Greg pulled away, only to moan quietly as he moved down to nuzzle at his neck, trailing his lips up to his ear and huffing a hot breath over the lobe. “Smell so good, _Christ_.”

Blinking rapidly, Mycroft trailed his fingers along the collar of Greg’s shirt. “Me? Or the food?”

Chuckling softly even as he shivered, Greg mouthed at Mycroft’s ear. “Both.” Feeling as though he might just spontaneously combust if he didn’t get to feel more of Lestrade’s skin under his hands, Mycroft daringly started to slip some of the buttons on his shirt free. “Did you eat?” Pausing in his confusion, Mycroft simply shook his head, moving his hands lower. “Mycroft.” Greg drew away slightly, holding him against the door by his shoulders. “It’s nearly nine o’clock. You need to eat.”

“Erm.” Mycroft shrugged in bewilderment, turning his head to try and capture Greg’s thumb as he ran it over his cheek. “I was waiting for you.”

“Daft bugger.” Stepping away even further, Greg reached out to take Mycroft’s hand. He tugged him away from the door, glancing aside to the sitting room before heading toward the kitchen. “You need someone to look after you, don’t you?”

Mycroft let out a quiet bark of laughter. “Volunteering for the job, are you?”

Greg turned back to him, his dark eyes serious and somehow amused all at once. “I don’t know, Mycroft. I honestly don’t even know how I’m supposed to be feeling right now. Everything’s a jumble in my head and my stomach is boiling and I’m not even sure I should be here, but holy God I couldn’t _not_ come tonight.” He gestured at the table, at the plates and wine glasses standing ready and waiting. “So I think it might be a good idea for us to sit for a little bit, and eat a little bit, and maybe chat a whole lot more. And then...” Greg took in a deep breath and let it out with an expressive sigh. “And then maybe we see where the rest of the night takes us, yeah?”

“I...” Mycroft nodded, albeit somewhat reluctantly. “You’re quite right. We should talk.” He straightened his shoulders and attempted in vain to ignore a certain throbbing down below as he turned to the oven. “Please, sit.” By the time he came back to the table with the casserole in hand, Mycroft's guest was settled and had filled both wine glasses.

Mycroft watched with a fair amount of amusement as Greg’s eyes went a little wide as he scooped out a healthy portion of the meal. “I hadn’t exactly pegged you as the shepherd’s pie type, Mycroft.”

Mycroft lifted his glass. “It’s simple and hearty and serves as a bit of a balm when I’m unsettled.”

“Comfort food.” Greg winked at him, nearly making Mycroft slosh his wine all over himself. “It’s one of mine, too.” He took a bite and closed his eyes in bliss. “Jesus, this is delicious.” Mycroft stilled with his fork halfway to his mouth as Greg fixed him with a heated stare. “You’re trying to bewitch me, aren’t you?” Completely unsure how to even respond, Mycroft attempted a knowing little smirk, which bloomed into a real grin as Greg laughed at him openly. “Tell me about yourself, then.”

Mycroft twirled his fork through his dinner, swallowing the bite he had just taken. Pausing for a moment to organise his thoughts in his mind, he began to tell the story of his life in between dainty nibbles - at least the parts that he was at liberty to discuss. Greg made all of the appropriate noises during his narration, his gaze hardly wavering from his face. Mycroft could tell that he was taking it all in, digesting every nugget of information, finding it just as fascinating as he apparently found his physical form, as strange as all that seemed to him.

Mycroft sat back as he concluded his tale, brandishing his wine glass in Greg’s direction. “My turn, then?” He smiled a little ruefully, running his hand through his hair. “I’m not so good at weaving tales - why don’t you ask me something to get me started?” Biting his lip, Mycroft leant forward and silently tapped at the gold band around the third finger of his left hand. “Ah. Yeah - that.” Blowing out a harsh breath, Greg poured himself a bit more wine. “It’s a bit of a farce at this point, to be perfectly honest with you. Dead in all but name. We married young - just out of Uni, before I went into the Met. Being a known Alpha, I never had the greatest luck with romance. Most regular folk are - wary - to say the least, or else just quick thrill-seekers. Nora was the first girl that paid me the slightest bit of attention, and I let it get to my head. I fell hard and we moved way too fast.”

Greg drained his glass, shaking his head as Mycroft offered more. “I think that was more or less her plan, actually. Not sure why, but she seemed to think that marrying an Alpha would - I dunno - boost her social standing or some such nonsense. Treated me like a prize she had won.” He huffed out a harsh laugh. “For a little while, anyway. She obviously didn’t get whatever it was she was hoping for. And now, well...” Greg twirled his glass over the table-top. “Been cheating on me pretty regular for quite a few years now. I’ve known since the beginning - my dear Nora isn’t as clever as she thinks she is.”

“And you?”

Greg shook his head with a little shrug. “Nah. Usually too busy with work, and I’ve never really had the inclination.” He glanced at Mycroft meaningfully. “Not before now, anyway. And well...” He tapped his ring on the table. “Although I don’t feel guilty that I’m here with you at this particular moment, I can’t exactly say that I feel right about it either, if you take my meaning.”

Mycroft’s heart dropped into his stomach. “Would you like to leave?”

“Not especially, no.”

Mycroft reeled as Greg smiled at him, something soft and slow and entirely unfair. “Perhaps we could watch a film, then?”

“Yes, let’s.” Greg decisively pushed away from the table, reaching for his dirty plate.

“You can leave it. I’ll tidy later.”

Greg tilted his head and reached for Mycroft’s plate as well. “If we do it together, it won’t take but two ticks, and then you don’t have to worry your pretty little head over it later.”

Mycroft rocked back slightly at the casual compliment, but he obligingly gathered up the rest of the detritus and followed his guest into the kitchen, watching in vague astonishment as Greg rolled up his sleeves and got to work. Perhaps there would be some unseen benefits to landing a pre-domesticated Alpha - once he managed to claim him for his own, of course.

Greg declined Mycroft’s offer of an after-dinner libation, reaching for the remote sitting on the coffee table instead. Mycroft tried not to blush when Greg turned on the television and the film he had been watching earlier popped up on the screen, but he couldn’t avoid his rather knowing look.

“ _Jaws_? Let’s see here... Comfort food, _and_ a comfort movie - I must have really knocked you for a loop today.” An easy grin crinkled his eyes. “I have to say it’s an interesting choice.”

Mycroft dithered by the side of the sofa, taking a sip of scotch to hide his embarrassment. “It relaxes me - I really don’t know why.”

Greg looked up at him, tilting his head curiously. “There doesn’t always have to be a why, Mycroft.”

“I...” Mycroft sank down to perch next to him, taking another sip of his drink and savouring it for a moment as he puzzled over Greg’s certainty. “I suppose not. So what’s yours, then?”

_“Princess Bride.”_ Greg grinned at him without a trace of shame, and Mycroft was a little startled to hear himself giggling merrily. He plucked the remote from his companion’s hand and swiftly ran through his queue until the film in question popped up. “Do you know... I think we’re going to get along just splendidly.” He pressed play.


	5. Chapter 5

Mycroft wasn’t surprised in the least to find himself being pulled into Greg’s lap in the next moment, his head spinning as his body was easily manoeuvred into place. He eagerly straddled the Alpha's sturdy thighs and sank down with an anticipatory sigh. “I thought...” Mycroft cleared his throat as he glanced down at Greg's lips. “I thought we were meant to be watching a movie.”

He shivered deliciously as Greg growled low, his own chest resonating with the deep timbre. “Fuck the movie.” He slyly eyed the cut-crystal tumbler that Mycroft was cradling to his chest, licking his lips. “Gimme a little taste of that, hm?”

Mycroft knocked back what was left in the glass and held it in his mouth, leaning back somewhat precariously to set the empty back down on the coffee table. With Greg’s hands firm on his waist and sliding up his jumper, he leant down and oh so slowly let the liquor trickle into Greg’s waiting mouth.

The smooth peatiness filled Mycroft’s senses as he followed the slight burn of the liquid with his tongue, pressing in closer as the sharp bite of spice tickled at the back of his throat. Kissing had always been a rather awkward affair for him in his younger days, never knowing which way to tilt his head, his brain forever calculating angles and sufficient lip pressure and oh where should my blasted hands go, anyway? But here, with Greg, it was almost instinctual, with no thought required at all.

No, at the first press of their lips, his brain simply shut down, and Mycroft was free to taste what he liked, to nibble on what he wanted and to touch anywhere he damn well pleased. He found that he rather liked to draw back in a lightly teasing manner, giggling as Greg growled and chased after his mouth, pulling him in tighter and digging his fingers into the meat of his arse to keep him in place.

And oh, those hands, so broad and fine, grasping at him eagerly but not greedily, once again filling him with that sweet ache that he almost didn’t want to be assuaged. He shivered as those hands traversed his back and torso, combing through his chest hair and sweeping idly over his nipples. Throwing his head back to take in air, Mycroft gasped and moaned as Greg moved one hand down, boldly cupping him through his trousers and giving him a firm squeeze.

He swiftly took hold of Gregory’s forearm, not entirely sure if he wanted him to stop or to keep going and make him bloody well come in his pants. Mycroft almost laughed as he came to the sudden realisation that he was more or less behaving like a hormone-addled teenager, albeit a couple of decades behind the curve. Greg grinned at him and squeezed again, his dark eyes full of fire. His scent spiked sharply as Mycroft bent down to take his mouth, moving desperately against him. Although this sensation was so unlike his usual bodily responses, he felt like he might be close, something at the base of his spine winding tighter and tighter, just waiting for a trigger to be released. Greg growled again and shifted his hand, his thick fingers scrabbling at Mycroft's zip.

Mycroft froze solid, and a bare second later, so did the Alpha. He blinked rapidly as he drew back, looking at Mycroft’s face closely. “Oh.” Moving slowly as if not to spook Mycroft unduly, Greg shifted his grip to rest his hands lightly on his thighs. “You haven’t actually done this before, have you?”

“I...” Mycroft swallowed uneasily, trying to ignore the heat in his cheeks as he ran his fingers over Greg’s exposed chest hair.

“You’ve never had sex with anyone outside of your heats.”

It was a statement, not a question, and Mycroft could only nod somewhat miserably. He shook it off with an attempt at a saucy look and a little grind of his hips. “I’m not unwilling.”

“Clearly.” Greg’s voice was dry, even though his eyes were kind and his hands were gentle. “Nervous, though.”

“Perhaps a bit, but I don’t see why it matters.” Mycroft leant forward as Greg smoothed his hands down the front of his jumper, putting him back together. “I trust you, Gregory Lestrade. I don't know why, but I do - with absolutely everything in me.” Greg let out a hefty sigh and tapped his fingers against Mycroft’s chest - the fingers of his left hand, he was displeased to notice. “Gregory - no. Please.”

He let out an unhappy squawk as he was unceremoniously shifted from his comfy perch, his bottom planted firmly on the sofa cushion as Greg moved to crouch between his knees. He brought Mycroft’s hands up to his mouth, kissing each knuckle. “Mycroft. It has been one hell of a day. Before a few hours ago, I didn’t even know you existed - couldn’t even imagine that there was someone like you out there for someone like me. This whole evening has been a dream.” Mycroft tightened his grip as he watched Greg’s dark eyes start to mist over with uncertainty. “I just need a little time to get my head wrapped around it all, okay?” He glanced down at his ring again, his voice going soft. “I need to make sure there won’t be any regrets - on either side.”

“I would never regret a single second of our time together.”

Greg looked up at him, smiling brightly, even though his eyes were hooded with doubt. “I believe you. Just let me sleep on it, yeah?”

“There’s no reason you couldn’t sleep on it right here. In my bed.”

“Oh, but you are a cheeky little monkey, no doubt about that.” Mycroft tried to hold onto his pique, but the soft laughter in the Alpha’s voice simply made it vanish. He conceded with a short nod, taking in a sharp breath as Greg stood and bent over him, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead. He gave his hands a final squeeze and turned away. “I _will_ call you tomorrow. I promise.”

“Good night, Gregory.”

Mycroft sat where he was until he heard the soft click of the front door closing. He turned off the television and ensured that the door was locked before heading upstairs to his bedroom. His footing was somewhat uncertain and his head unusually light, leading him toward the bed in fear of imminent collapse. Suddenly bone-weary, Mycroft stripped to his skin and uncharacteristically left his clothing in a pile on the floor.

He stood there for a moment next to the bed, looking down at his pale body in the dim light streaming in through the windows. Although his rather demanding erection had vanished in the few minutes since Greg’s departure, it took but one curious touch to bring his cock back to attention, and he gasped as his knees trembled. Putting a hand to his mouth, he realised that it smelled like Greg, like that heady swirl of musk and spice. Mycroft hastily yanked down the bed sheets and crawled into bed, kneeling at the edge of the mattress as he stroked himself somewhat frantically, huffing deeply at the vestiges of the Alpha’s scent on his own skin.

He could hardly recall the orgasm itself, as it was so quick and so hard that it was almost painful, striking him dizzy. He only recalled coming back to himself flat on his belly, an annoying stickiness spreading out underneath him. Mycroft slithered towards the pillows and flopped away from the wet spot, for the first time in his life wishing he had another body in the bed to curl up next to as he fell fast asleep.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are always appreciated, as usual!
> 
> Kisses to all!

Mycroft roused himself feeling slightly headachy, intolerably itchy, and with a firm resolve to see Lestrade in his bed that very night. One very long shower and extremely brisk cup of tea later, he was ready to put his plan into motion. He ignored the rather telling looks he got from Anthea as he walked into the office, resolving to have a chat with both her and George about curtailing their nasty little gossip sessions - as long as the subject of said discussions was their employer.

Once the most pressing concerns of the day were handled, he reached for his phone and dialled up his little brother. The sullen silence that followed the ringing of the phone didn’t fool Mycroft in the least. He knew that Sherlock was listening, even if he was too blasted rude to offer a greeting.

“Good morning, brother dear. I’m rather surprised that you didn’t call me at home to continue your little temper tantrum last night.”

“Your goon threatened me with bodily harm if I did so.”

Mycroft smiled. “Ah, well done him. That’s an extra conker in his Christmas stocking, then.”

“If this is about Lestrade, Fatcroft, you can’t have him. He’s important to the work and I won’t have him distracted.”

“Oh, no no no no no... Don’t you _dare_ take that tone with me, little one.” Mycroft took in a deep breath, keeping his voice low and deceptively calm. “I have no interest in your vulgar little hobby, Sherlock. That isn’t what this is about. If Lestrade or his colleagues allow you to assist in their work, then you are free to do so as long as you abide by their guidelines. But Lestrade himself - Gregory - he is _mine_ , do you understand? If you try to place yourself between us in any way, I will simply remove you from the equation. Do you _hear_ me, brother dearest?”

“I...” Sherlock gulped quietly. “I hear you, Mycroft.”

“Excellent.”

“You do realise that I am not the only unknown quantity in your equation, correct? The man is married.” Sherlock huffed out a sneer. “To a cheating slag, admittedly, but still. He is a steadfast individual, even if she decidedly is not.”

“Ah. And now we come to the crux of the conversation.” Mycroft showed his teeth at the low but inquisitive hum in his ear. “I hope to have her factored out by this evening. I’m gathering my own resources at the moment, but I’d like for you to do a little - legwork - for me, brother dear.” He outlined the basics of his plan, a bit of the tension in his spine easing as he sensed the growing excitement on the other end of the line.

“And what will I get out of this little operation of yours?”

“Why, my continued good will, of course. Considering that I am the only person on this earth whom you can count on to extract you from the ridiculous situations you often find yourself embroiled in, I think that should be sufficient, don’t you?”

Sherlock let out a deep sigh. “Sometimes I forget what a bastard you truly are, brother mine.”

“Never let your guard down, Sherlock.” Mycroft smiled sharply as his brother made a vague noise of assent. “Get on with you, then. I shall await your updates.” He hung up before a retort could be uttered, and to have the last word, as per their usual pattern of verbal fisticuffs.

Mycroft drummed his fingers on his desk for a moment before beginning to assemble the puzzle pieces. Some of the paperwork would be laughably easy to obtain, but others might require calling in a favour or two that he had been saving for a rainy day. Although that would be a minor loss in the grand scheme of things, considering what he was hoping to gain. Taking in a deep breath, he set to work.

When Mycroft had everything tucked up into a tidy if somewhat thick file a few hours later, he texted Sherlock for the most recent location. Noting that it wasn’t all that far from his building, Mycroft stepped into the outer office and slipped on his coat. “I have a late afternoon engagement, Anthea. You’re free to leave when you’ve completed your tasks - please inform George that he’s on standby.”

“Understood, Mr. Holmes.” Mycroft paused as his P.A. winked at him. “Good luck on your mission.”

He stifled an exasperated sigh and kept moving, blinking somewhat uncertainly as he stepped out into the waning sunshine. He found the café to be a relatively well-appointed member of its species, the umbrellas over the outside tables nice and large and sedately coloured, the wrought-iron scroll-work on the fence actually iron and not some cheap throwaway.  

Mrs. Nora Lestrade, née Wilkerson, was sitting at a table opposite an empty chair, an unbecoming crease between her brows as she frowned at her mobile. Mycroft found her appearance to be somewhat striking but mostly because it seemed as though she was trying just a little too hard. She had blonde hair straight down to the middle of her back, her makeup was perhaps just a touch too heavy, and the style of her clothing was easily a decade too young for her more mature if still shapely figure.

Mycroft’s immediate impression was that of a woman fighting the inevitable push toward middle age, rather than seeking to embrace it. It was somewhat of a shame, considering that she could be a singularly attractive woman with just a few alterations to her wardrobe and hairstyle. Maybe he would send Anthea to... No. No distractions, Mycroft. Remember that this woman is your competition - your opponent.

She blinked at him in polite outrage as he settled into the seat opposite, placing his paperwork on the table in front of him. “Excuse me, but that seat is reserved.”

“Yes, for one Robert M. Jones, if I am not mistaken.” Mycroft glanced at his watch. “It seems he’s rather late for your appointment, Ms. Wilkerson. Or should I say date?”

She set her phone down with a clunk. “Not that it’s any of your business, whoever you are, but it’s Mrs. Lestrade.”

Mycroft smiled his most sincerely sharky smile. “Not for very much longer, I’m afraid.” He took out the top-most piece of paper and slid it across the table, feeling a wicked surge of power as her perfect if gaudily lipsticked mouth dropped open in shock.

“Dissolution of - _what_? What is this bullshit?”

Mycroft ignored both the screechiness of her tone and the curious stares being thrown in their direction, starting to lay out the photos that he had brought along. “That _bullshit_ , as you put it, is the best deal that you will get once all of this comes to light.” Nora began to droop as all of her past and recent transgressions were laid out in front of her, one by one. Mycroft swallowed his glee as her complexion went ghostly-white underneath her brash foundation.  

He felt a small twinge of uncertainty as she tilted her head to look at him, her eyes narrowing keenly. “You’re an Omega, aren’t you? You must be the one he was with last night.” Nora started to fidget with the photos, glancing at some and pulling faces at others. “God, that one was a mistake.”

“Odd that you don’t consider them _all_ to be mistakes, Ms. Wilkerson.”

She showed her teeth at him in a mirthless grin. “You’re rather high and mighty considering what you two were up to last night.”

Mycroft drew himself up and stared her down. “What we were _up to_ was dinner and a bit of conversation and very little else.”

Nora suddenly broke out into giggles, making Mycroft draw back in confusion. “Oh, I get why you’re so pissed off now. The bastard left you all hot n’ bothered, didn’t he?” She scowled briefly. “Man’s too damn decent for his own good sometimes.” She decisively flipped the photos over and slouched back in her seat as she looked at Mycroft curiously. “You got him all riled up too, you know. I had been wondering why he made such a hell of a fuss with that damn punching bag in his study when he got home.” She attempted to study her nails with an air of nonchalance. “No doubt it would have been better for the both of you if he had just given in.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are always appreciated, as usual!
> 
> Kisses to all!

“I can’t say that I disagree with you on that point.” They shared a brief grin, but Mycroft quickly locked it down before any kind of camaraderie could be established. He pursed his lips and nodded toward the form in front of her. “Whether you choose to sign that paper now or to fight it, you do realise that your marriage is over either way, correct? Besides the fact that he’s known about your dreadful indiscretions from the very beginning, he and I are meant to be together. We simply _belong_.”

Nora narrowed her eyes shrewdly. “He gets angry, you know. Breaks things.”

Mycroft sighed. “I can afford to replace things, Ms. Wilkerson. And if you’ll pardon my candour, I’m naturally much better equipped to handle an Alpha’s mood swings than you are. I highly doubt that his current frustrations will continue to affect him so negatively while I am around.”

“Because I won’t be, is that what you’re implying?”

“I’m not _implying_ anything at all.” Mycroft slipped a pen out of his jacket and resolutely put it down on top of the official dissolution of marriage form. “Let’s just be done with this, shall we? If you look over the details, I think you’ll find that it’s quite the equitable arrangement. I’ve even included a small stipend to assist you in getting settled - elsewhere.”

Nora twiddled the pen in her fingers as she glanced over the small print, her eyes widening slightly at the number listed on the form. “No alimony?”

She shrank away as Mycroft’s eyes hardened. “The courts certainly wouldn’t award you any considering your appalling behaviour, so I don’t see why I should.”

Nora conceded with a little shrug, taking in a deep breath as she put pen to paper. Mycroft clasped his hands together to hide the trembling in his fingers, feeling profound relief sweeping up from his toes as she finally signed. He plucked both pen and paper away from her before she could think twice about it, tucking it safely back into his folder and removing several other official documents and laying them out in front of her.

Nora shuffled through them quickly, her eyes going wide with well-deserved fright as her complexion once again went ashy. “You... You had my name changed back already? On everything! How are you even able to _do_ that?” She looked up at him as Mycroft stood, settling his coat on his shoulders and brushing himself down. “Just who the hell _are_ you, anyway?”

“Why - I am the victor, Ms. Wilkerson. That is all you ever need remember of me.” He glanced back as a rather plain-looking individual came rushing toward the table, his pinched face showing irritation and a fair bit of anger. Mycroft picked up the photos as the man approached, flipping them over and spreading them out over the entirety of the table-top. “You may keep these, my dear. I have several others.”

Nora glared as she tried to scoop them all up before her current partner in infidelity could see, but of course she wasn’t quite fast enough. Mycroft strode away, his lips turning up in a nasty smirk as there was a sudden exclamation and the sound of raised voices from behind him. Clutching the spoils of war to his chest, he texted George as he walked back toward his office, tipping an invisible hat across the street to his brother before he vanished into the shadows. He’d have to send him a little something for keeping Mr. Jones occupied during his confrontation with the newly ex-Mrs. Lestrade.

George was waiting with the car as he arrived back at his office building, and Mycroft passed him the folder, his hands shaking only minutely. “Take me home, and then I’d like you to deliver this to Detective Inspector Lestrade at New Scotland Yard. Directly into his hands, if you please.”

George grinned so brightly that Mycroft actually winced at the sight of it. “Understood, sir.” Mycroft shook his head and rolled his eyes heavenward as there was more gleeful shuffling of feet, but he folded himself into the backseat feeling more anxious than ever.

It would all be up to Lestrade now.

George practically pitched him out of the car as he delivered him to his front steps, screeching out of the drive with a terrible excess of enthusiasm. Blinking at the cloud of exhaust lingering in the air, Mycroft let himself into his townhouse and closed the door behind him, leaning up against it for a moment. That brief moment turned into quite a long pause as he recalled what had happened there the night before, his lips tingling with the sense-memory of Greg’s kisses.

Although he momentarily debated setting his imagination loose to run a bit free and letting nature take its course with another healthy wank, the low level of worry in his chest was just too persistent to set aside. What if Greg would take exception to Mycroft’s actions - what if he found his behaviour unconscionable and refused to ever see him again?

Well, it was done now either way. There would be no taking it back, and even if Greg did find his attitude deplorable, at least he would now be free to pursue his own happiness from this point forward, whether it was with him or not. Mycroft blanched slightly as nothing but the notion was enough to send his stomach into a state of quasi-rebellion. Mycroft turned toward the sitting room, realising that the only thing he could do now was to wait to face up to the possible consequences.

And drink, of course. He plucked the glass from the night before off the coffee table and poured himself a generous tot of scotch, sitting down on the sofa and completely failing to ignore the obnoxious silence of his mobile. He sipped, he fretted, and he paced the length of the room several times in an attempt to work out a bit of his nervous energy. When his mobile finally rang nearly an hour after arriving home, he practically pounced on it.

It rang twice more before he was able to swallow his heart, shoving it back into his chest and willing his voice not to shake as he answered. “Holmes.”

“I should be fucking furious with you, you know.” Mycroft sank down to perch on the edge of the sofa as the low growl in Greg’s voice made his legs wobble alarmingly. “I don’t know why I’m not mad. I honestly feel amazing, like so much weight has been lifted from my shoulders... How did you even get her to sign this?” He made a vaguely chiding noise as Mycroft took in breath to answer. “No, never mind - I don’t really need to know, do I? Holy fuck, Mycroft - I’m free!”

“Gregory...”

“You freed me. Not that I don’t know why, you randy little thing.” Greg huffed out a quiet laugh, his voice quickly taking on a salacious tone. “God, I can’t wait to get you alone again, lay you out beneath me and kiss you all over...” Mycroft held his breath, an agonised squeak pushing through as Greg continued to torment him, his voice breathy and rough with undisguised lust. “Touch you all over, take you in my mouth and suck and suck until you explode, taste your come on my tongue, get you on your belly and mark up that fine arse of yours with my teeth, sink into you so deep and make you come again with nothing but my cock. Oh, the things I thought about doing to you when I wanked last night... Jesus _Christ_ , I don’t think I’ve ever come so hard in my whole goddamn life.”

“Gregory!” Mycroft swallowed hard, clearing his throat as there was an anticipatory silence on the other end. “I w-want you to spend my next heat with me. W-will you? Please?”

“Fuck yes. Thought that was understood. When?”

“Soon.” Mycroft tried to suppress his nervous laughter, but it bubbled up out of him anyway. “Very soon. I stopped taking my suppressant this morning.”

Mycroft’s bones nearly turned to jelly as there was the quietest of curses in his ear. “Are you at home right now?”

“Yes, Gregory.”

“I’ll be right there.”

“The door’s unlocked. Come right in.”

_“Fuck.”_


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, comments are highly, highly appreciated!
> 
> *mmmuah*!!

Mycroft lifted the glass to his mouth as there was a decisive click in his ear, inhaling the aroma of the scotch and willing the trembling in his extremities to cease. He started to tip back what was remaining in the tumbler, but changed his mind in the next moment. He refilled it instead, carrying it upstairs with him to the bedroom and placing it next to the new bottle of lube on his bedside table.

Although Mycroft had a definite idea of how he wanted the evening to go, he also knew that it would be quite impossible for him to articulate those desires to Greg himself. So instead he did what he could to make his intention as clear as possible - beyond the obvious placement of the lube, of course. He plumped up the pillows and turned down the bedclothes, blushing as he looked down at the stain from the night before. For the briefest of moments, Mycroft thought about changing the sheets, but he knew there wasn’t time. And besides - what better way to rile up an Alpha than with the scent of an Omega’s desire?

Leaving the bed in its despoiled state, he methodically stripped down, using his usual nightly ritual of slowly and carefully hanging his suit piece by piece to help calm his anxiety. Slipping on a silken dressing gown over nothing at all and belting it loosely so a tidy tuft of chest hair and a nice sliver of thigh was visible, he took a sip of scotch and settled in to wait.

Not that he had to wait all that long, of course. He heard the knock, but it clearly was just for propriety’s sake, as the door swung open almost immediately afterward. He shuddered faintly as the sound of the deadbolt being thrown echoed through the foyer, moving to stand at the door to his bedroom.

“Mycroft?”

“Up here.”

Mycroft swayed on the spot as Greg came into view, climbing the stairs with calm deliberation. His dark eyes were vaguely wild, even though his face was bright and cheerful. Mycroft’s gaze lingered on the overnight bag Greg had clutched in his fist as he strode down the corridor toward him, his spirits soaring as he realised that he must have packed it earlier in the day - that he had intended to come to him even before he staged his little coup. To come, and to stay.

But then the bag was dropped at his feet, and Greg’s arms were around him, and once again all thought fled as he simply surrendered himself. Mycroft grunted quietly as he was pushed into the room, the backs of his legs colliding with the side of the bed. Without any preamble, Greg ducked his head and swiftly sank his teeth into the join of Mycroft's neck and shoulder, biting down firmly and sucking hard.

Mycroft gasped as he scrabbled for a hold, slipping his hands under Greg’s jacket and fisting at his shirt. He reeled as he instantly went hard, his brain going fuzzy with the sudden lack of blood. Greg growled around his mouthful of flesh as Mycroft moaned and wriggled, trying to wrap one leg around his waist, silently begging, wordlessly giving permission.

“You beautiful, glorious, absolutely maddening creature...” Greg cradled his face in both hands, pressing hot, rough kisses to his lips between each word. “I should be so fucking _angry_ with you.” Mycroft whimpered as Greg sucked at his bottom lip, chasing after his mouth as he pulled away, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Why am I not furious?”

Mycroft daringly slipped a hand between them, grasping at Greg’s erection and squeezing firmly. “Because you’re just too horny. There’s no room in your brain for anything else right now.”

Greg groaned, then sputtered out some garbled mixture of outrage and laughter, his hips rocking against Mycroft’s hand. Mycroft’s grin faltered slightly as Greg’s eyes narrowed even further, something rather calculating passing through them. He let out a little whoop of surprise as he was suddenly flipped around and pushed into bending over the mattress, his hands held fast in the small of his back.

Although Mycroft struggled, it was only perfunctory, his own overwrought libido overriding all sense of self-preservation. He jolted in shock as there was a stinging slap to his rear, Greg’s hand sliding easily against the satin of his robe. Mycroft shuddered in delight and anticipation as Greg bent down over him, his scent spiking with unabashed lust.

“First lesson, Omega mine. You will not always be able to appease my anger by appealing to my cock.” He growled and slapped the opposite cheek, huffing out a wicked laugh as Mycroft jumped and squeaked in shock. “Is that understood?”

Mycroft quivered as he swallowed hard, his own desires taking a sudden and entirely unexpected turn. “Not q-quite... P-perhaps you need to enforce the lesson a b-bit more?”

“Wicked little tart.” Greg growled out his approval and drew back, pressing Mycroft down harder on the bed as he embarked on a series of strong, open-handed pops over and across his arse.

Mycroft squirmed and panted and moaned as he was spanked very thoroughly, the sharp sting of each strike quickly melding into a very pleasant tingling all across his bottom. Without quite realising it, his thrashings took on a more rhythmic pattern as he mindlessly rutted into the mattress, grunting faintly with each thrust. He yelped quietly as the weight of Greg’s body was suddenly pressing down atop him, his clothed erection dragging over the swollen globes of his arse, aided by the slipperiness of his dressing gown.

Mycroft heaved out a shuddering sigh, silently tilting his head down so that his neck was exposed. He tensed unbearably as Greg panted hot breath over his skin, as he dragged his teeth over and across. He was fairly sure that he would have completely lost control had the Alpha’s teeth actually closed down on him. When the quivering in Mycroft’s loins had subsided, his need still throbbing almost painfully between his legs, he turned his head and looked up into eyes stark black with desire.

“Did you mean it?” Greg tilted his head and lifted an eyebrow in a silent query. “You said, ‘Omega mine’. Did you mean it?”

Gregory chewed on his bottom lip, a tinge of chagrin showing in his expression. “A bit presumptuous, hm? I... I wasn’t fully aware of saying it.” He groaned as Mycroft pushed up into him, rocking forward again. “But yes - I meant it. If I had my way...” His breath shuddered out over Mycroft’s ear as he bent low. “If I had my way, I’d take you and _make_ you mine. Leave my mark on you so no other Alpha would even _think_ about touching you ever again because they know I’d tear their fucking hearts out. Mine to fuck, to fill and knot, to mate - mine to take care of, to love and to treasure - to bind you to me forever.”

“Oh God, yes.” Mycroft sobbed quietly as Greg drew back in surprise. “Yes, yes - Gregory, please! I want all of that and more, I want to be _yours_ , please _make_ me yours, I will give you - everything. Everything that I am, it will mean _nothing_ without you by my side.”

“Mycroft.” Greg’s voice was soft and heated, his lips tracing over cheek and neck and shoulder. “You impossible mad thing... You’re only saying that because of the state you’re in right now. You’ll feel entirely different once you’ve gotten off. You don’t want me, not really.”

“Shut up.” Mycroft glared over his shoulder. “I’m not in the throes of my heat right now. I _am_ more aroused than I have ever been in my adult life, thanks entirely to you. But I’m also perfectly rational, and I am telling you not only what I want, but what I _need_. I will tell you every damn day until my heat does hit, and when it does, we _will_ bond. You are my mate, Gregory Lestrade. I feel it in every bone in my body, in each beat of my heart. We belong to each other now.” Mycroft slumped back down, his heart racing as the enormity of what he had just said smacked him in the face. “Don’t try to tell me you can’t feel it too, because I know you’d be lying.”

“Of course I feel it.” Mycroft grunted quietly as Greg pushed away, his hands sliding underneath his body to fumble with the ties on his robe. He shivered in the cool air of the room as it was slowly removed, as there was a low rumble of appreciation from behind. “Fucking gorgeous, you are.” Mycroft froze momentarily as there was movement, glancing over his shoulder as Greg crouched and wrapped his hands around his ankles. He came up slowly, running his hands up over the backs of his legs, squeezing firmly at the tender flesh of his arse, laughing low as Mycroft let out a terribly embarrassing squeak. Greg continued to move, sweeping his hands up the expanse of his back, running them up his arms until he had both wrists held firmly in his hands, holding them down over Mycroft’s head. He nuzzled at Mycroft’s cheek, heaving out a somewhat miserable sigh. “I feel it, Mycroft - I want it. Good God, I want _you_. But you’re so beautiful and perfect - I don’t deserve what you’re offering.”


	9. Chapter 9

Mycroft growled in frustration. “And I am telling you that you do deserve it - we deserve each other. _I_ deserve _you_ , goddammit. And now I am telling you to fuck me so that we can get all of this ridiculous tension over and done with and discuss the matter like two adult men rather than mooning about like over-libidinous teenagers!”

Greg levered himself upright with a hearty laugh, delivering another stinging slap to Mycroft’s bare behind that made him jump and squeal. “Alright, bossypants.”

Mycroft shook his head to clear it, sighing with heady relief as his ears picked up the welcome whisper of clothing being removed. Pushing himself up, he gingerly moved to kneel on the bed, reaching behind to cup each swollen arse-cheek, squeezing gently and squirming against the low thrill of arousal that lit up deep in his belly. He glanced to the side as Greg chuckled at him, his teeth showing in a bright grin and his cheeks blooming with a hint of pride. Mycroft stared unabashedly as Greg ran his fingers along the waistband of his boxers, clearing his throat a little awkwardly as he stretched them out and let them fall.

“Ta-da...” Greg held his arms out to the side as he stepped out of the bundle of fabric, something in his expression shifting from cheeky to self-doubt.

Mycroft breathed out a low moan, raising the back of one hand to his mouth to wipe away the excess of saliva that had sprung out of nowhere as he looked upon Gregory Lestrade in his full glory. “You are - stunning. My God.” Eager to show his willingness, desperate to feel his touch, Mycroft simply leant forward and presented for his Alpha, head down and arse up high.

_“Jesus.”_ In the next moment, there were hot hands on his flesh, and Mycroft shuddered from top to toe as he was caressed. “Mycroft, sweetheart... We don’t have to go from zero to a hundred here. There’s so much else we can do together. I know you haven’t done this before - at least not like this.”

Mycroft spread his legs a bit wider, going up on his elbows to take in air. “That is entirely the point, Gregory. I need to feel you inside me. You, as you are now. No heat, no rut, just you and me, learning how to pleasure each other.” He cast his eyes over his shoulder, looking into a face that was suffused with understanding and - dare he even think it - love. “Please, Gregory. _Please._ Just give me this.”

Greg nodded carefully. “Alright, but we do it my way.” He tapped Mycroft’s hip. “On your back.” Confused, Mycroft rolled over and settled down on his back, slipping a pillow under his head and nervously folding his hands over his belly. He watched as Greg took a draught of the scotch, tipping his head back and taking a deep breath before snatching up the bottle of lube. “Knees up, legs spread.”

Biting his lip at Greg’s authoritative tone, Mycroft did as he was told, squealing under his breath as the Alpha crawled up on the bed and knelt between his legs. His fingers twitched as Greg shifted closer, reaching out of their own accord. “Gregory...”

Grinning crookedly, Greg took Mycroft’s hand and pressed a soft kiss to his fingertips before leading it down below. He shivered and moaned as Mycroft took hold, as he gave him a firm stroke. “Best be careful there if you want to be able to play with me for longer than ten seconds.”

“You’re so...” Mycroft squeezed again, wrapping the fingers of his left hand around himself, comparing the girth and finding Greg to be far more than adequate - perhaps even a little intimidating. He swallowed hard and blinked rapidly. “What’s it like during your rut?”

Greg carefully pulled free from Mycroft’s curious fingers, taking a moment to collect himself. “Dunno. Never had one. Never been with an Omega before, remember? I think we’re both gonna be in for a few surprises.”

They stared at each other for a moment, simply absorbing the new reality of the life that they were embarking on. Then Greg ran his hands down the inside of Mycroft’s thighs, and any further thought was simply set aside for later.

Mycroft spread his legs a bit wider, nodding feverishly at Greg’s softly inquisitive hum as his slick fingers slid underneath his bollocks. He tensed for just a moment, but went a little limp as his perineum was rubbed firmly, making his eyes roll back in his head. Rumbling out soothing sounds as he moved down, Greg applied steady pressure as he rubbed his fingers over and around Mycroft’s hole in slow circles, occasionally probing with just the tip of his middle finger.

Mycroft sighed and squirmed, wishing that Greg would move faster, knowing that he had no choice but to move at his pace. His stomach muscles clenched involuntarily as Greg pushed a little deeper, making his sphincter clamp down around him. Greg 'tsk'ed at him quietly, removing his hand and applying a bit more lube.

His eyes brightened slightly as he looked at the tumbler of scotch, reaching for it as he resumed his careful probing. He looked at Mycroft over the rim of the glass. “Y’know, when you gave me that little taste last night, I just about lost it. Hot as hell.”

“S-show me.” Greg tipped him a little wink as he took a mouthful, setting the glass back down and bending over him. Mycroft reached for him as he parted his lips, sliding his arms around Greg’s torso. He dragged his nails over and across his back as Greg fed him the liquor, trickling it into his mouth by bare drops. Mycroft growled faintly when it was gone, chasing the sweet burn on Greg’s tongue. He gasped aloud as there was a subtle wriggling down below, glancing up with wide eyes.

Greg grinned and wiggled his finger again, pushing in a bit deeper. “Just needed to distract you, I guess.”

Mycroft wound his fingers into Greg's hair and pulled him back down. “Mm - distract me again.” His eyes fluttered as he threw his head back, rocking into Greg’s hand. “And give me _more_ , oh God...” Greg hummed into his mouth, something doubtful in his tone even as he started to push with a second finger. “For God’s sake, you aren’t going to break me. Give. Me. More.”

“Pushy little tart. I thought Omegas were supposed to be meek and obedient, not demanding and bossy.”

Mycroft grunted as he bore down on Greg’s fingers, spreading his legs even wider. “You clearly have much to learn, oh _yes..._ ”

Greg showed his teeth at Mycroft’s low hiss of pleasure, crooking his fingers and pressing upward firmly. He laughed boisterously as Mycroft practically levitated off the mattress, his eyes wide and thighs trembling. “Oh, I think I’m knowledgeable enough.” He bent down and took Mycroft’s mouth before he could sass back at him, moving his fingers in and out and all around, pushing in deep as he twisted his wrist.

Mycroft whimpered as the third finger went in, the beautiful stretch and burn exciting his cock back to full awareness. He reached up to cradle Greg’s face, nipping at his lower lip and moaning into his mouth. “Now, Gregory. Now, please now, before I go mad.”

Somewhat beyond words as Mycroft quivered with need underneath him, Greg nodded and withdrew, reaching for a pillow. He silently encouraged Mycroft to lift his hips, sliding the pillow beneath and arranging it just so. Slicking himself up, he shuffled closer and started to push, stilling at each of Mycroft’s quiet gasps. He shuddered hard as Mycroft’s body took him in, accepting the head of his cock with a slight pop.

After just a moment’s pause, Greg kept moving, sliding inexorably forward until they were joined fully. Mycroft hissed out a soft breath as his body adjusted, the pressure down below easing into the familiar and welcome sensation of fullness. He flexed his internal muscles, showing his teeth as Greg let out a strangled groan.

“Ya gotta give me more than just a couple of seconds, love.” Greg squeezed at Mycroft’s thighs as he cautiously ground in a bit deeper. “It has been a _very_ long time since I’ve done anything like this, and you feel so fucking _good_ that I’m gonna lose it.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little bit of sex, a little bit of schmoop - everybody's so bloody happy!
> 
> Heh. Please do comment, I'm adoring each and every one of my lovely readers!

Mycroft reached for Greg's left hand, noticing for the first time that the hated gold band had been removed. There was a clear tan-line that had almost looked like a ring at first blush, but no - that defunct symbol was now gone. He felt a distinct surge of relief, playing with Greg’s fingers as they breathed together, looking up at him curiously. “How long?”

Greg barked out a laugh that made Mycroft quiver with pleasure, and he slyly hoisted his legs up a bit higher. Greg moaned and dared a small thrust, biting his lip as he drew back, his hips jerking slightly as Mycroft clenched down around him. “Jesus.” He tapped his fingers on Mycroft’s knees as he started to move slowly, his rhythm just a bit erratic. “Uh... Three years - maybe four?”

Mycroft stared for a moment before Greg deliberately tilted his hips and dragged the head of his cock across his prostate, making the cords of his neck stand out in stark relief. “ _Hnk._ It’s b-been four years since you’ve had sexual relations with _anyone_?” Greg sort of waggled his head in an upwardly side-to-side motion which Mycroft interpreted as ‘more or less’. “How have you not gone mad?”

Greg huffed out a harsh breath as he thrust deeper, holding up his right hand and wiggling his fingers. He reached down to stroke Mycroft’s cock with long, firm pulls, sinking in deep with each tug. “Lots of this...” He grinned fiercely as Mycroft moaned, his toes curling against the backs of Greg’s magnificent thighs. “And toys.”

“T-toys?”

“You’ll see.” He crouched down lower, still thrusting, still stroking, as he started to nip at Mycroft’s exposed neck. “Later.”

“Yes, oh yes... Gre- _mmph._ ”

Mycroft rolled his eyes at Greg’s attempt to shut him up by simply sticking his tongue down his throat, but in the next moment his eyes were rolling of their own accord, each divine thrust of his Alpha’s cock sending little sparks of bliss into his brain. He began to rock his hips to match Greg’s rhythm, moaning low as he tightened his grip around Mycroft's cock, simply letting the motion of their bodies push it through his fist. He just had time to marvel that less than forty-eight hours previously, he had been resigned to the fact that he would most likely go through life as a steadfastly single Omega, and now here he was with the most beautiful Alpha he had ever seen in his life, making love to him in his bed.

But then that undefinable warmth was coiling up in the pit of his belly, tighter and tighter, throbbing insistently with each of Greg’s thrusts, and Mycroft took hold of his head so he could look into his eyes, attempting to convey how close he was and, _‘oh yes please pleasepleaseplease...’_

Something in Greg’s face hardened, became more determined, as he ramped up both the intensity and the depth of his movements. Mycroft’s mouth opened on a nonsensical warble as there was a decisive twist of Greg’s wrist around the head of his cock, and it let fly. His fingers tightened in Greg’s hair as his spine locked, drawing his knees up even further, leaving himself exposed to more of his lover’s relentless pounding as all of his nerves simply overloaded.

But then there was a question in Greg’s eyes, a desperate moment when he seemed unsure of himself and what was about to happen, and Mycroft shook his head, wrapping his legs around his waist and reaching down to pull him in tight, digging his nails in firmly. With a soft but deliciously deep groan right in his ear, Greg thrust one final time, pushing with everything that he had in him, burying his face in Mycroft’s neck as he shuddered out his release. Mycroft tried to still the wild beating of his own heart so he could feel his Alpha’s magnificent cock straining and pulsing deep inside, but he was so overwrought and so elated that he could only laugh.

Greg froze for the briefest of moments, but then he too was laughing, giggling happily as he stroked Mycroft’s hair and kissed away the sweat and tears. Mycroft made the slightest sound of dissent as Greg shifted, but it was only to spread his legs a bit wider, settling down on top of him a bit lower, keeping them joined for as long as possible. He knocked their foreheads together and rubbed Mycroft’s nose with his, and it was all so terribly sweet and lovely that he felt he must be in a dream.

But then the dreamy atmosphere vanished as there was another shifting, and Mycroft hissed out his displeasure as a joint in his hip popped quietly. Greg straightened up with a low groan, putting a hand to the small of his back in an attempt to stretch it out. They both made noises of vaguely disgusted intrigue as they pulled away from each other, with Greg's cock slipping free with no resistance and Mycroft squirming against the odd sensation of sliminess down below. He very rarely noticed it while he was in heat, and if he did, it was something to revel in. But right at this moment - _eurgh._

“Hrm.” Mycroft stiffened as a curious finger poked gently at his arsehole, slipping and sliding and spreading the mess all around. Greg turned a rather sheepish look on him before holding up his hand for inspection and cracking his neck. “I suppose I should have asked if you were on birth control before I did that. That was pretty damn stupid.”

Mycroft shook his head. “Surely you know that Omegas are only fertile while in heat. Besides which, I am very vigilant about contraception.” He rolled to the edge of the bed and reached out to take the soiled fingers that Greg was examining, tugging him up and in the direction of the bathroom. “I _wanted_ to feel you come inside me.”

Greg turned and glanced at his backside in the mirror over the sink, lifting a saucy eyebrow at the distinct half-moon marks that had been left behind by Mycroft’s nails. “Yeah, I rather got that impression.”

Mycroft tried to look contrite, but as he wasn’t feeling it in the least, he rather failed. He giggled instead, beckoning Gregory to join him in the shower. He put a hand to his pinkened and still swollen bum as he was crowded into the cubicle, looking back at dark eyes that were twinkling with amusement. “I suppose I wanted to leave a mark as well.”

His voice faltered as Greg gently turned him around, kissing him softly. “You can stake your claim any way you want to, love.” Mycroft swayed into his heat, shivering slightly as he reached around him and turned on the water.

They washed each other carefully, taking care not to over-excite themselves, silently resolving to behave as adults at least until they had been fed. Mycroft was fascinated to observe how they moved together within the somewhat restricted space, apparently able to communicate and to direct effectively with only the slightest of touches to a shoulder or an elbow. His heart thumped almost painfully in his chest as Greg looked at him with water running down his face, plastering his hair down over his skull. But then in the next moment he let out a quiet shriek as his Alpha shook his head like an over-exuberant puppy, scattering water droplets everywhere.

Greg laughed as he turned the water off, chucking Mycroft under the chin and bringing him in for a soft kiss. “As if you weren’t already dripping wet, you silly thing.”

Mycroft felt his cheeks burning, but he could only shake his head and shrug his shoulders halfheartedly, utterly incapable of explaining his reaction as his physical form was completely at odds with his current mental state. They each took up towels as they quit the shower cubicle, drying themselves off in silence. There was a portion of Mycroft’s brain that was insisting it should be awkward, but it only felt comfortable to be sharing his personal space with Greg in this manner.

It felt natural.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More sickeningly sweet domesticity. Blargh. :-)))
> 
> Please do comment if you are so inclined - I love hearing what you all think!
> 
> *mmuah*

Mycroft’s damp towel fell from his fingers as Greg vigorously rubbed at his head, emerging from his towel with his silver mop sticking up every which way. It made him look years younger despite the colour of his hair and the lines around his eyes. Mycroft’s feet started to move before he was entirely aware of himself, and then he had his face planted in Greg’s chest, feeling him rocking back against the sink with the force of the impact.

He rubbed his face from side to side as Greg draped his towel over his shoulders and wrapped his arms around him securely, reaching up after a moment to gently run his fingers through Mycroft’s damp hair. Mycroft knew that Greg sensed the onset of his sudden melancholy mood as his scent wrapped around him, the spice becoming something more warm than sharp. But he didn’t ask, didn’t cajole or try to comfort him unnecessarily. He simply waited.

“I’m being selfish.” Mycroft lifted his head at the softly inquisitive hum, casting his eyes down and running his fingers through Greg’s chest hair. “Greedy. Trying to take you for my own rather than allowing you the choice.” Mycroft bit his lip as the low rumble took on an understanding tone. “I could postpone my heat - missing my suppressant for one day won’t really throw me off my regular schedule. We could hold off, you could...” He waved a hand vaguely. “Date. Or whatever. P-put yourself up for s-studding. Make sure I’m what you really want.” Mycroft choked back his misery he felt at nothing more than the very idea, blinking rapidly. “You were beholden to someone else just this morning, and now you’re not, but here I am expecting you to bind yourself to me with not even a week of freedom to your name! God, Sherlock’s right - I am a bastard.”   

“Well, yes. But you’re _my_ bastard.” Greg gave him a little squeeze, chuckling as Mycroft squeaked and burrowed closer. “Look. I can’t say that I really agree with what you did. It was a shitty move, no matter how horrible Nora’s behaviour towards me has been. But it was clearly an act of desperation, and I really don’t think your brain was the organ that was in control of your actions at the time.” Mycroft snorted inelegantly, shaking his head. He stilled as Greg’s fingers traced along his spine, his voice taking on a sombre tone. “Mycroft, I want you to listen to me very closely.”

He waited until Mycroft nodded slowly, his heart thumping in his head.

“I need you to understand that I am here with you because I _want_ to be, because I can’t imagine being anywhere else. I caught you staring at my bag when I came in - I know that you know that I packed it this morning with the intention of coming to you tonight. I had made my decision long before you pulled your little stunt, you sneaky thing.” Greg pressed his lips to Mycroft’s forehead as he put his cheek to his chest, blinking back tears of joy rather than of sorrow. “What was it you said - you feel it in each beat of your heart, every bone of your body? I was achy all day today, I just couldn’t get comfortable no matter what I did. Thought it was because I slept on that godawful sofa in my study last night, but when I came here, when I took in your scent, all of that just dropped away. I need you, Mycroft Holmes, just as badly as you need me. We do belong together.”

“I said as much to your ex-” Mycroft waved a hand. “-person.” He blushed as Greg snorted out a quiet laugh. “So what now?”

He shivered minutely as Greg slid his towel off his shoulders, tossing it aside. “Pyjamas, leftovers, cuddling on the sofa and _Princess Bride_. In that order. That’s all we need to worry about for tonight, yeah?”

Starting to shiver with a bit more intensity, Mycroft nodded and reluctantly pulled away from the warmth of Greg’s body, tugging him back into the bedroom. They both studiously ignored the minor skirmish that seemed to have taken place in the middle of the bed as they donned their nightclothes. Mycroft hummed happily as he wrapped himself up in a toasty dressing gown on top of his pyjamas, turning around and coming up short as Greg pulled on a pair of extremely well-worn bottoms and nothing else.

He gulped and stared at the curve of his Alpha’s arse under the thin fabric, pondering how it was possible that putting clothing _on_ could make someone’s body a hundred times more devastating. If you could even call that clothing, for goodness’ sake. Mycroft jumped slightly as Greg turned and started chuckling at him, having caught him staring. But no matter how hard he tried, he just couldn’t seem to make his eyes lift beyond waist-level.  

Mycroft swallowed as Greg put his hands on his hips, still laughing quietly, which unfortunately only drew his eyes toward certain jiggling body parts. Greg finally managed to break the spell by sliding his fingers along the waistband of his bottoms until they met in the middle, dragging them upward along his treasure trail and successfully ensnaring Mycroft’s gaze somewhere along the way. Greg scratched faintly at his chest hair as he ducked his head slightly, catching Mycroft’s eyes and grinning at him cheekily.

“Gregory, that is entirely unfair.”

“Oh, fine.” He turned back to his bag and pulled out a shapeless t-shirt that was nearly as threadbare as his bottoms, throwing it on and ruffling at his hair before throwing his arms wide. “Better?”

Mycroft squinted as he tilted his head, sweeping his gaze from top to toe. While the shirt did at least provide a bit more coverage, he wasn’t entirely sure that was a good thing. “Well...”

Greg huffed and started heading down the corridor, throwing a look over his shoulder as Mycroft paused in the doorway. “C’mon, then. You’ll have the opportunity to ogle me for the rest of our lives together, but there’s only so much pie left in that fridge of yours. If you don’t come with, I _will_ eat it all.”

“That would be extremely ambitious of you, my dear.”

Greg grinned and patted his belly. “I work up a hell of an appetite after a glorious shag, love. And I bloody well plan to eat you out of house and home!”

Mycroft’s mouth dropped open, but he was only able to force out a nonsensical squeak as Greg thundered down the stairs and immediately started making a racket in the kitchen. He followed him down and stood watching as he moved about, once again silently pondering how well Greg seemed to know him, to understand how he thought. There was apparently no need for him to familiarise himself with the layout of the room, as he instinctively seemed to know in which cupboard the plates were kept, which drawer held the flatware, where to pull the wine glasses from.

Before Mycroft knew it, Greg was pressing the glasses and the partially-full bottle of wine from the night before into his hands, shooing him in the direction of the sitting room. Greg followed with two bowls of the reheated pie, setting them down on the coffee table and taking up his wine glass as he sat down next to Mycroft.

He tapped their glasses together solemnly. “To us.”

Mycroft stammered out something vaguely affirmative before sipping at his wine, shaking his head as Greg pressed his dinner into his hand. “I must confess - this all feels rather like a dream.”

Greg paused with his fork halfway to his mouth. “Later on tonight, when my truly hideous snoring startles you out of a dead sleep, you’re gonna wish it was. But I promise you it’s not.” He leant over to give Mycroft a quick kiss on the cheek before turning on the television. “Now eat your pie before it goes cold.”

Mycroft smiled slowly. “As you wish, my Alpha.”

The look that Greg gave him nearly melted all the bones in Mycroft’s body, but he obediently followed his Alpha’s edict, consuming all of what he had been given. With their bellies full and the dirty dishes set aside for the moment, they fell into a natural cuddle, with Mycroft tucked up between Greg’s legs and leaning against his chest. It wasn’t long at all before the food in his stomach and the warmth of the wine in his blood seeped into his bones, making his eyes too heavy to keep open. He fell fast asleep with Greg’s arms secure about him, the beat of his Alpha’s heart thumping against his ear.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Meant to get this out earlier, but it has been A Day.
> 
> Please do comment if so inclined!
> 
> ~XO~

Mycroft woke the next morning flat on his back in his bed, although he was somewhat bewildered as to how he had gotten there. Greg was sleeping quite soundly, snuggled up close to him with one hand resting proprietorially on his belly under his pyjama top. He turned his head and watched him in his peaceful slumber for a few minutes, his brain reeling slightly as he tried to reconcile this abrupt and rather monumental shift in his life. He slid from bed as gently as possible, reluctantly getting himself ready for what he knew would be an extremely long day.

When Mycroft emerged from the bathroom fully dressed and ready to go (although he had nearly broken down into tears at the sight of another toothbrush lined up innocently next to his), Greg was sitting up and blinking the sleep from his eyes, looking dangerously close to simply toppling back into the pillows. Mycroft sat sideways on the mattress, slipping the spare key out of his bedside drawer and holding it up until Greg nodded faintly in acknowledgement. He leant over to give Greg a quick kiss which quickly devolved into a rather languid snog, finally pulling away as he felt thick fingers fumbling with the knot on his tie.

“Behave, ruffian.”

Greg smiled sleepily, giving himself over to a whole-body stretch that made the bed shake minutely. “Only because I know we’ll play later...”

Mycroft abruptly stood and stepped away, clearing his throat against the low moan that was bubbling up from his chest. “Erm. Right. Have a good day, Gregory.” He clenched his fists as his Alpha slid sideways on the bed and let his head dangle over the side, cheekily waggling both tongue and fingers in his direction.

“Until tonight, lover.”

With his brain swimming with the heat in Greg’s voice, Mycroft rather surprised himself by managing to make it down the stairs without simply tripping down them head first. He did dimly register the absurdly goofy grin that George was sporting as he held the car door open for him, but he didn’t have enough outrage in his belly to muster up a suitable glare in response. In no time at all, they had arrived at the office, and Mycroft found himself being followed up to his suite in an odd shift from George’s usual routine.

Casting an inquisitive glance over his shoulder at his driver’s ebullient expression, Mycroft frowned slightly. “Is there some sort of security threat that I was not informed of?”

George’s grin somehow grew even brighter, and Mycroft pulled a face as he drew back. “None at all, sir. Just making sure you make it to your chair in one piece, as you looked a bit zombie-like and all.”

“George. For God’s sake, I am quite capable of finding my way to my own office.” Feeling rather tetchy, Mycroft cut the corner just a bit too short, stumbling sideways as he bounced against the wall. Growling low at George’s barely suppressed giggles, he rounded on him, poking his umbrella into his chest. “You... Shut up!”

George held up his hands in mock surrender, obviously biting his tongue to keep silent. But he did not relent in his dogged pursuit, following Mycroft into the outer office and helping him out of his coat. Mycroft rolled his eyes as he caught his driver giving Anthea an enthusiastic thumbs-up out of the corner of his eye.

He held up a hand as she started to speak, cutting her off and drawing himself up. “I will thank the both of you to mind your own business, you, you... Gossipmongers!”

With his edict delivered, Mycroft stepped into his personal office and shut the door with a decisive slam, leaning up against it briefly and listening to the excited whispering from beyond. Now that he wouldn’t be observed, he was finally able to let his own grin peek out even as he shook his head fondly at his companions' antics.

Then he sat down and got to work.

While he had a task directly in front of him, Mycroft was able to operate more or less at his full capacity, even though Greg was always there in the back of his mind. In the small spaces in between files, his Alpha very quickly came to the forefront, and Mycroft would find himself lost in musings of the colour of his eyes, the shine of his hair, the flexing of his muscles underneath his fingers, or any number of tiny traits that he was eager to explore in further depth.

And every time he started to sink into his thoughts just a little deeper than was strictly appropriate, Anthea would make a fuss as she came in with a new file, knocking Mycroft out of his introspection and very nearly out of his chair on several occasions. Although she quirked an eyebrow at each startled reaction, she wisely chose to retain her silence.

Mycroft received a text as she was bringing in his lunch, and he took a moment to glance at it.

_‘Put in for a dispensation - cited the A/O Protection Act. Already informed them that I expect to be going out for a week in the next few days.’_

Ah, right... “Anthea, I’ll be taking my bi-annual week of leave a bit earlier than previously scheduled.”

She had the audacity to smirk as she nodded. “Yes, sir - I’m aware. I’ve already started to move around some of your engagements. Do you have an idea of the time-frame and whether or not there are certain things that you would like to see handled before then?”

Mycroft sighed heavily even as he silently praised her initiative. “I trust your judgement on such matters, Anthea. And no, I’m not certain on the timing, although I do think it may be earlier than expected due to - mitigating circumstances.”

“Understood, sir. And will you require George to set up a security detail as per the standard?”

Mycroft tried to hide his blush behind his cup of tea, reaching out to draw his salad closer. “That won’t be necessary. Um. For the foreseeable future, actually.” He impatiently waved her off as she let out a faint squeak and shimmied her hips. “No - don’t say it, don’t say _any_ thing, just - get on with you, good Lord.” Anthea ducked her head and scooted out of his office, humming with intrigue.

Shaking his head, Mycroft began to consume his meagre lunch, turning back to his mobile.

_‘My staff has been notified as well.’_

_‘Any of them giving you hell for it? My Sergeant is just one more lewd joke away from getting her arse sacked, I stg.’_

Mycroft giggled. _‘No jokes - at least not to my face. I’m sure they rather wish to keep their heads right where they are.’_

_‘Glad yours are more well-behaved than mine. So. Think you’ll be home at a decent time? Any food allergies, particular dislikes? Ice cream or cake? Bet you’re more of a custard fan, hm? With fresh fruit, yeah?’_

_‘And cream.’_ Feeling his face flush, Mycroft quickly followed that text with the information that had been requested as far as dislikes, hoping that Greg would let the possibility of salaciousness pass him by. At least for the moment.

_‘Ah. Thought that might be why there were no peas in the pie...’_

_‘Horrid green squishy things.’_ Letting out a quiet sigh of relief, Mycroft pressed on. _’I don’t anticipate any issues with being home around six, but I am often detained unexpectedly.’_

_‘Thought that might be the case. Just let me know what’s up if you can.’_

_‘Yes, my Alpha.’_

_‘Oh, Omega mine - can’t wait to get my hands on you again, touch you all over...’_

Mycroft’s fork skidded off of the cherry tomato he was attempting to spear, and he blinked as it bounced across the surface of his desk and landed somewhere on the other side. _‘Gregory!’_

_‘Hm. Suppose you’re right. Best behave, so we can get our work done and get back to each other soonest.’_

_‘Quite right.’_

_‘Tonight, then.’_

_‘Tonight, Gregory. -xo-’_

Greg followed up Mycroft’s rather sweet sign-off with a tiny cartoon... He squinted at his mobile screen and tilted it from side to side. Was that an - aubergine? And a tongue? What - what were these ridiculous pictures even meant to convey? _Oh._ Mycroft felt his face warm almost unbearably as the implications suddenly made themselves clear.  

“Good heavens!”

“Problem, sir?” Mycroft flipped his phone over and slid it across the desk as Anthea entered, shaking his head vigorously. “Ah, right.” She paused and ducked down, rescuing the errant tomato from the floor and flicking it back into her employer’s half-eaten salad. From the look on his face, she knew that the rest of it would go untouched. She slapped the files she was holding down in front of him, attempting to catch his eye briefly to determine whether or not he was at least marginally present. Right. More tea, then. Sighing quietly, Anthea mourned the upcoming loss of the special biscuits that she kept stashed in her desk drawer for when she needed her own small bite of cheer. But needs must, and she prided herself on her noble sense of self-sacrifice.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh dear - Greg is a greedy little thing, isn't he? (But also terribly loving and my god I want one...)
> 
> Hee! Please do continue to comment - I shower you all with kisses!!!
> 
> xxxxxxxxx

Mycroft worked on, steadfastly ignoring the distracting thoughts that would pop up at completely random moments, accompanied by amusing illustrations of various fruits and veg dancing through his head. After a while he was able to banish the sillier aspects, lingering instead on what Greg may have planned for dinner, and what kind of a cook he might turn out to be... Of course, even a simple takeaway would be divine as long as they were sharing it together.

Before Mycroft knew it, the time was coming up on half-five, and he cheerfully started to clear his desk of the miscellaneous bits of paper that always seemed to accumulate throughout the day. He paused as the door to his office swung open gently and Anthea backed in with a tea-tray in her hands. She turned an apologetic look in Mycroft’s direction as she placed it on the desk, and he took in a breath heavy with the malty richness of Assam.

Mycroft scowled at the pot and the two empty cups. “Dammit.”

“Yes, sir.” Anthea ducked back into the anteroom to wait for their unscheduled guest as Mycroft pulled out his mobile.

_‘The PM apparently has something he wishes to discuss in person. Unsure how long it will be.’_

_‘Well, shit.’_

_‘I feel much the same way, my Alpha.’_

_‘Text or call before you leave. Doesn’t matter how late.’_

Mycroft toyed with the idea of crafting some sort of cutesy cartoon signoff as Greg had earlier in the day, but the sheer number of happy-frowny-winky faces staring up at him from his mobile screen befuddled him, so he just gave up. _‘Will do.’_

Then he poured himself a cup of tea and waited, practising his ‘how interesting’ and ‘I’ll see what I can do’ faces.

And so it was well after eight o’clock when George dropped him off at home. As usual after dealing with one of the most intolerable individuals in the known world, Mycroft was feeling rather fatigued. But as he noted the light shining through his windows, his spirits lifted, and he had a smile on his lips as he opened the door. He stood there for a moment, his stomach rumbling faintly as he took in the aroma of garlic and basil, fresh and green and bright.

Hanging up his coat as he shut the door with his foot, Mycroft was just about to call out when that increasingly familiar sharp bite of spice lit up his senses, and he felt his knees go a little weak. Greg was there to catch him, turning him around and pressing his back up against the door, his kisses fierce and hungry. He was wearing those ridiculously clingy bottoms again, and with only the barest of nudges Mycroft was able to slide them down enough so he could grab two hefty handfuls of a truly divine arse.

Chuckling low, it only took a saucy little shimmy for Greg to shake free of Mycroft’s grasp, and then he was sliding down his body until he was on his knees in front of him. Mycroft could only stare blankly as he heard the zip on his trousers being lowered, followed by a quiet curse and another throaty laugh before his braces were undone as well, allowing Greg access to what he was seeking as his trousers slipped down his thighs.

Mycroft made some kind of interrogatory noise as his tongue seemed disinclined to cooperate with his brain just at that moment, but Greg winked up at him as he gave him a leisurely stroke. “Don’t overthink it, Omega mine. Just feel it, yeah?” He hummed low as he leant in and pressed a tender kiss to the crown of Mycroft’s cock. “Jesus. I’ve been thinking about this all day - almost had to go into the gents’ and pull one out just so my brain would work properly.”

With another devastating wink, Greg simply swallowed him down, huffing a short breath out through his nose as Mycroft’s head hit the door with a solid thunk. Mycroft curled his fingers into his Alpha’s hair as he worked at him, closing his eyes and giving himself over to pure sensation, banishing all extraneous thoughts from his mind. He almost laughed as he realised that Greg was an extremely goal-oriented individual, and that his goal in this moment seemed to be to make him come as quickly and as spectacularly as possible.

He slowly shook his head from side to side in an attempt to stave off the inevitable, even though he wasn’t even entirely sure why. It was clear to him that Greg’s enthusiasm was not faked, that this was something that would be happening quite often in their upcoming future together - there was no need for him to savour this particular experience. There was only the need to surrender to pleasure, to allow his Alpha his wicked victory. And so Mycroft began to meet Greg’s determined sucking with tiny rolls of his hips, opening his mouth to vocalise how close he was to his finish.

He wanted to tell his Alpha, ‘Yes,’ but he was only able to spit out the first letter, stuttering out a recitation of _“Yi-yi-yi-yi”_ that climbed in pitch until he went tumbling over the edge, finally hissing out the rest of his exclamation as his orgasm overtook him, making his legs tremble alarmingly as his fingers tightened in Greg’s hair. Mycroft’s body jerked hard as Greg pulled off, not relenting in his fierce suction even the slightest little bit.

He lolled against the door, thankful for Greg’s weight against his legs keeping him upright. Mycroft blinked his eyes open as he heard the sound of spitting and felt a ragged quivering in the body leaning up against his. Looking down, he jolted to see that Greg had pushed his bottoms down and taken himself in hand, his beautiful cock glistening with a combination of spit and Mycroft’s own release. Greg’s eyes met his for an agonising moment, and then he buried his face in Mycroft’s groin, making little grunting noises as he nuzzled at his spent cock.

Mycroft clutched at his shoulders, tugging at his hair and moaning low as Greg rubbed his cheek and chin into him, nosing underneath his bollocks and huffing in such deep breaths that he feared he might hyperventilate. As addled with endorphins as his own brain was, it took Mycroft a few moments to realise that his Alpha was scenting him, marking himself with his pheromones. His head swam at the nothing more than the implication, at Greg’s primal instinct to take as well as to show himself as taken.

Taking in a deep breath heady with the scent of sex and spice, Mycroft pulled back on Greg’s hair, forcing him to meet his gaze. He shook him lightly as he whined and tried to pull away, clearly unhappy at having his prize taken away from him. Mycroft swiped his thumb over Greg’s chin, smearing the traces of his semen and sweat over his lips, watching as his eyes simply glazed over with lust. Greg panted hot breath over Mycroft’s skin, his arm moving faster, the sounds of his slick hand on his even slicker cock increasing exponentially. Mycroft growled as he slipped his thumb into his mouth, hooking it over his bottom teeth and pulling him closer.

“Gregory - _my Alpha..._ ”

Greg’s mouth dropped open as his body jerked under Mycroft’s hands, a shuddering moan breaking through as his face flushed a beautiful bright pink. Although Mycroft could not see it, he imagined that there was most likely a considerable puddle of something rather unseemly on the floor between his feet. For a brief, wild moment, his only thought was _‘thank goodness I had the foresight to put down tile instead of hardwood’_ , and then Greg was gently pushing at his thumb with his tongue, and he startled back into awareness as he let him go.

Greg’s chest rose and fell a few times as he deliberately took in large, steady breaths, clearly trying to calm his elevated heartbeat. He turned a slightly shaky but nevertheless utterly brilliant smile up in Mycroft’s direction, tilting his head as he got a bewildered grin in return. But then Greg was patting at Mycroft’s cock with a flannel that he rather thoughtfully already had to hand, and he was tucking him back into both pants and trousers. With a wink and a zip, he rose to his feet somewhat creakily, ducking away as Mycroft leant in for a kiss.

Scoffing quietly, Mycroft took hold of Greg’s head and planted a hard if somewhat chaste peck right on his lips. He hummed thoughtfully at the stickiness of his skin, sniffing delicately at their combined scents and swaying toward the warmth of Greg’s body. Mycroft blinked as he felt a feather-light caress along his jaw, lifting his head to meet his Alpha’s gaze.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit stuck at the mo even though I'm working on future chapters. GD muse!!
> 
> Adore you all - please do comment!
> 
> XOXOXO

“Hungry?” Mycroft shrugged awkwardly before deliberately dragging his eyes down the length of Greg’s torso, leering openly at the considerable patch of damp on the front of his bottoms as he licked his lips suggestively. Greg huffed out a laugh and Mycroft rocked forward at the scent of the ocean on his breath, taking hold of his hips both to steady himself and to drag him closer. “Wicked little thing - careful there, or you’ll dirty up your beautiful suit.”

“Don’t care. Just want to feel you against me, on top of me.” Mycroft slid his arms around Greg’s waist as he let out a tiny whine, leaning his head on his shoulder. “Don’t care about anything but you.” He grimaced into Greg’s threadbare shirt as his stomach took that particular moment to speak up, grumbling loudly about what it clearly felt was a rather dire state of affairs.

“Seems that someone else doesn’t entirely agree.” Mycroft huffed, but obligingly shuffled backward as Greg steered him toward the kitchen table. He let out a tiny puff of air as he was pushed down into a chair, scowling faintly as Greg deftly slipped out of his grasp. Mycroft blinked down at the small salad that was placed in front of him, beginning to pick at it as Greg put a fork in his hand and dropped a kiss on the top of his head. “Eat, Omega mine.”

With his brain still buzzing with the dregs of his unexpected if delightful welcome home, Mycroft obeyed, listening to the faint sounds of bustling activity behind him as he munched away mechanically. His empty plate was whisked away and replaced with a bowl of steaming pasta, and he dug into it with enthusiasm, despite the persistent desire to feel his Alpha’s body up against his. Mycroft hummed appreciatively as Greg joined him at the table, watching avidly as he stuffed his face.

Mycroft twirled some more noodles around his fork, spearing a bit of fresh mozzarella along the way. “This is delicious, Gregory.”

Greg’s face went a little pink. “Pomodoro. One of the only sauces I can make without popping the lid on a jar first.”

Mycroft’s heart actually skipped a beat as a bit of garlic sparked across his tongue, followed by the bright green bloom of basil. Fresh. Everything in this dish had been purchased by his Alpha that very evening, purely for the purpose of making a meal to satisfy his Omega. He took in a deep breath to try and ease the burgeoning tightness in his chest, once again beginning to become overwhelmed with the sudden and rather fantastic change in his fortunes. Greg reached over to caress his cheek, gently tapping the end of his nose with his thumb as he smiled at him softly.

Mycroft surrendered his fork as Greg tugged on it, taking both it and his dirty bowl back to the sink. Mycroft pushed his chair away from the table in preparation to stand, but he was admonished with one stern look. Swallowing hard as his belly quivered, Mycroft kept his bum right where it was, wondering what else Greg had in store for him.

Mycroft briefly hung his head, his shoulders shaking in silent mirth as Greg emerged from the refrigerator brandishing a small dessert dish. Of course. What meal would be complete without pudding? He licked his lips as Greg set it down on the table in front of him, teasingly holding the spoon away from Mycroft’s grasping fingers. He took a moment to admire the perfect light yellow of the custard layered between generous slices of beautifully red strawberries, and the fluffy mound of fresh whipped cream on top.

Greg hummed softly as he settled his chair down next to Mycroft, turning and interlocking their knees together. With a little wink and his tongue peeking out from between his teeth, he held out a spoonful of the trifle, watching intently as Mycroft eagerly leant forward and closed his lips around it. Everything in him seemed to flutter helplessly as Greg’s dark eyes flashed with pride and desire and pure joy, knowing that it was in response to his own expression of quiet ecstasy.

Again, he was able to discern that everything had been prepared fresh, that no manner of pre-made mix had been allowed anywhere near this culinary delight. Mycroft felt a quick pang as Greg licked a bit of cream from his thumb, unsure if it was lust or simply greed - wanting the whole thing for himself. For a brief moment, he wondered what Greg would do if he climbed up into his lap and demanded to be fed as a child would. Although as his Alpha held out another spoonful for Mycroft to demolish, he somehow felt that he wouldn’t mind at all.

Humming low, his tongue and throat thick with custard and cream, Mycroft licked his lips and tilted his head meaningfully. “Are you trying to fatten me up, Gregory?”

He sputtered out a quick giggle as the very tips of Greg’s ears went starkly beetroot-red. Mycroft leant forward and ran his hands up his paramour’s thighs as he stammered out some kind of denial, opening his mouth and deftly capturing the half-laden spoon that was being waved around erratically. He smiled as the denials petered off into fascinated silence, studying Greg’s expression as he slowly pulled off, making sure the spoon was quite clean.

He wasn’t entirely surprised to find quite a bit of confusion in addition to a healthy dose of desire in those beautiful dark brown eyes, even though the sight made his chest twinge with sympathy. It suddenly struck Mycroft that he probably understood a bit more of the reasoning behind Greg’s motivations than the unfortunate Alpha did. No, he wasn’t trying to fatten him up, per se. But his instincts _were_ compelling him to see his Omega well-fed, to demonstrate that he could provide for him, and keep him happy.

Greg blinked rapidly as Mycroft took the nearly empty dish from him and slowly and deliberately ran his finger around the inside, scooping out the remnants and sucking it off his finger.   

“Guh.” He stammered again as Mycroft winked at him, methodically wiping and licking until the dish was practically sparkling. “I... That’s not... I m-mean...” The spoon clattered to the table top as Greg shrugged helplessly. “I don’t think so?”

Keeping his voice as casual as possible even though the thought made a sharp spike of jealousy flash through his chest, Mycroft asked, “Did you treat your ex...person this way?”

Greg sighed even as one corner of his mouth quirked up at Mycroft’s sour expression. “Maybe a bit in the beginning, but whenever I cooked, she’d complain about the calories or some other bullshit. Never really felt she appreciated my efforts, y’know? And then I got more involved in work and we didn’t really have time to do dinner together anymore. I still did what I could to put food in her mouth, but at some point it became just a duty.” Mycroft reached out to take his hands as Greg looked at him, his eyes shining. “With you, it feels like more than that. It warms me up inside to see you happy, and I had a feeling that a good meal would do that for you.”

“Even more so because you made it just for me, my Alpha.”

Greg’s face broke out into a wide grin, pride warring the satisfaction of a job well done in his eyes. Quite unable to resist any longer, Mycroft slid from his chair and onto Greg’s lap, groaning quietly as his distended stomach was squeezed between them. He smothered his slight discomfort with the bliss of his Alpha’s kisses, wriggling into him as there were twin twitches down below.

Greg laughed breathily as Mycroft boldly tweaked a nipple through his t-shirt, cupping his bottom and giving it a squeeze. “Take me to bed, my Alpha. I want to feel your skin on mine. I want to show my appreciation for how well you’ve taken care of me tonight.”

Greg pulled away slightly, cupping Mycroft’s jaw and running his thumb along his bottom lip before leaning in for an almost unbearably soft kiss. “We’ll see, Omega mine. I’m fairly sure that once your back hits that bed, you’ll be out like a light.”

Mycroft frowned and tilted his head. “Whatever makes you say that?”

Greg closed his eyes and took in a deep breath, opening them slowly as he let it out again. “It’s subtle, but I think I’m learning how to decipher your scent. When you’re content, it’s like it mellows out. Gets a bit brighter and, um - sweeter. More honey in it than chocolate. You smelled the same when we were cuddling last night, just before passing out on me.”

“I smell like chocolate to you?”

Once again, Greg’s eyes closed as he nodded dreamily. “Mm-hmm. The posh stuff that you get at the specialty shops - dark, deep and rich. Slightly fruity, notes of honey and vanilla. It is...” He sighed deeply. “Intoxicating.”

Mycroft slithered off of his lap and yanked on his hands. “Bed. Now.”


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I found myself a bit stuck on this one, despite having a few chapters of the heat already mapped out, but I think I'm back on track now. I hope so, anyway. So here's some more domesticity, along with a little bit of silliness. 
> 
> Please do comment if you are thus inclined...

With a silky chuckle, Greg obeyed his Omega’s curt demand, rising smoothly to his feet and allowing himself to be tugged in the direction of the stairs. Mycroft more or less marched him straight down the hall and pushed him rather insistently in the direction of the bed. With a fond quirk of his lips, Greg settled down with his back to the headboard, splaying his legs wide as he watched Mycroft disrobe.

For the briefest of moments, Mycroft entertained the thought of doing a little strip-tease, almost snorting at himself as he imagined the rather ludicrous pictures in his head. Greg smirked at him almost as though he was seeing the same thing, casually scratching at the sliver of belly that was peeking out from his rucked-up t-shirt. Suddenly feeling a bit frivolous, Mycroft slipped out of his shirt with a little flourish, shaking his shoulders provocatively. With his Alpha’s low hum of intrigue vibrating in the atmosphere that was thickening between them, Mycroft dared a little shimmy of his hips as he let his trousers slip to the floor.

Casting a sultry glance over his shoulder, Mycroft bent at the waist, subtly wiggling his silken-clad behind in his Alpha’s direction. The sound that echoed through the room could have been a gentle laugh or a growl of encouragement, but whatever it was made Mycroft’s spine twist with delight and he quickly determined that any further teasing would simply be too cruel for _him_ to take, never mind poor Greg.

Hastily hanging everything up, he briefly fingered the cuff of his pyjamas, but left them behind as he stepped away from the wardrobe, firmly closing it behind him. Forcing himself to stroll at a leisurely pace, Mycroft sauntered toward the bed in his pants and vest, trying on a smoulder whilst simultaneously giggling at his own foolishness. Greg chuckled as he reached out to pull him in, settling Mycroft down on his lap as though he was simply meant to be there.

With a softly chiding sound, Greg quickly stripped Mycroft of his vest, leaning forward as his t-shirt was tugged at impatiently to allow his Omega to do the same for him. Both garments were tossed to the side as Mycroft planted his face in Greg’s chest, humming quietly as he rubbed his cheek into him. Greg stroked his back and put his lips to his forehead as Mycroft nestled his head on his shoulder, closing his eyes and simply melting into his embrace.   

Quite a few moments later, Mycroft abruptly shook himself out of a light doze, somewhat aggrieved to find his Alpha’s earlier prediction to be embarrassingly accurate. Greg hummed as Mycroft sat up, running his fingers down his torso and grinding down on the rather pleasantly plump cock tucked under his bum. Blinking the unwelcome sleep from his eyes, Mycroft ducked his chin and looked up at Greg from under his lashes.

He let out a tiny whoop of surprise as he was swiftly rolled over, landing with his head on his pillow and his Alpha between his legs. Squirming breathlessly against the weight of Greg’s body against his still slightly-too-full belly, Mycroft grinned triumphantly as he felt a distinct throb against the crack of his arse. He pouted softly as Greg started to shift down his body, pressing gentle kisses here and taking tiny little nips there.

Mycroft opened his mouth to protest, but Greg shushed him before he even got one word out, slowly shaking his head as he nuzzled and sucked at his navel. Blinking up at the ceiling, Mycroft frowned slightly as his Alpha crooned quietly over his distended stomach, running his palm over it in an unfairly comforting series of slow circles.

Mycroft let his eyes drift closed, sinking into the mattress, allowing his nebulous desire to dissipate into the sanctuary of the room. After all, they had the rest of their lives to lovingly degrade one another, there was no need to spend every moment together in some form of sexual congress. Mycroft reached down and gently cupped the back of Greg’s head as he pillowed it on his stomach, lightly scratching at his scalp. He didn’t think he had ever been so relaxed with another person so near before, so - _free_. Mycroft took in a deep breath and let go of the last remnant of his tension.

_Pffrp._

In the shocked stillness that followed, Mycroft felt his entire face absolutely erupt in flame, and then he was covering it with both of his hands, his spine as stiff as a board. What with the blood rushing in his ears, at first he was totally unaware of his Alpha’s low chuckles, but then the minute vibrations in the mattress underneath him alerted him to his amusement. Rather than allowing Mycroft to crawl off into a dark corner and perhaps expire of sheer mortification, Greg instead blew a resounding raspberry on his belly.

Mycroft’s body jolted and he let out a shriek of indignation, but with Greg’s mouth blithely pressing down on the danger zone, of course another blast was inevitable. Thankfully most of the noise was disguised by Greg’s enthusiastic tomfoolery, but that didn’t prevent Mycroft from wishing there was a handy black hole nearby that he could toss himself into. He wriggled and pushed insistently against Greg’s shoulders as he tried to curl up into a tight ball.

But of course Greg was immovable, and so Mycroft once again buried his face in his hands, fighting back the utterly bewildering sensation of impending tears. He had known that his good fortune would somehow turn, that the dream would be ruined, but he hadn’t expected that his bloody body would go and betray him like that!

He felt the warmth of his Alpha’s body as he crawled up over him, blindly shaking his head and resisting as Greg tried to peel his hands away from his face. “Oh, no you don’t...” Mycroft frowned at the softness of his mate’s voice, letting a bit of the tension in his arms go. “Don’t you hide yourself away from me, love.” Mycroft kept his eyes lowered as he was exposed, biting his lip against the trembling in his chin and the burning in his cheeks. “There you are, you beautiful thing.”

Mycroft stared incredulously. “Beautiful? After that disgusting display? Beautiful, ha - try base and vulgar instead!”

Greg chided him softly, his lips turned up in amusement as he giggled. “Try _human_ , my love.”

Mycroft tilted his head as he studied Greg’s face, noting the light of - joy - in his eyes. He wasn’t laughing _at_ him, or finding juvenile humour in the unseemly processes of the human body - he was genuinely pleased to have caused such a reaction.

Greg’s lips pursed as he read the question in Mycroft’s eyes, propping himself up on his elbow as he trailed his fingers up and down and around his mate’s chest and belly. “It’s silly.”

Mycroft scoffed and threw up his hands. “This entire situation is completely ridiculous. I fail to see how anything you could tell me would make it any sillier than it already is.”

Still Greg hesitated, his dark eyelashes fluttering as he blinked rapidly. “I - I don’t know you - not really. I don’t know all of your quirks, all of the little things that make you tick. Not _yet_ , anyway. But my sense of you is that you have an image you like to maintain - even here, in your own home. Always have your mind running, always need to be on alert for whatever might require your attention at a moment’s notice. It isn’t easy for you to relax, is it? Even when you’re all by yourself.” Greg shifted downwards on the mattress, huffing out a laugh as Mycroft tensed at the touch of his lips on his navel. “But just now - here, with me - you let go.” He chuckled quietly. “And quite literally, too!” Mycroft felt something in his chest bloom, his head spinning faintly as Greg looked up at him, his eyes dark and serious. “You don’t know what it means to me that you trust me like that.”

“I trust you with everything in me.” Mycroft blinked as his eyes went a little damp around the edges, trying on an alluring smile. “My Alpha.”

The smile did its job, as Greg slithered back up into his eager embrace, pulling Mycroft into a series of languidly deep kisses, one hand gently cupping the back of his head and the other clamped firmly over one arse-cheek. Mycroft whimpered quietly as Greg pressed in closer, his spine stiffening slightly as something in his guts rumbled threateningly.

Greg burst into heady giggles, smothering them against Mycroft’s cheek. “And maybe this can wait until your tummy settles a bit, hm?”

Mycroft glared halfheartedly, turning over and curling in on himself. “Damn my blasted _tummy_.” His pique was swiftly spirited away by his mate’s soft chortles and the heat of his body snugging up close. He could only close his eyes and sink into that comforting embrace, his nose wrinkling slightly as Greg’s hand gently cradled the offending body part, his thumb working in lazy circles over the soft flesh.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Arghhhh... I know, I know... 
> 
> But! This is the direction the muse pushed me in, and I do have a couple scenes already typed up that just need to be bridged. I think one more after this, and then the heat! Yay hormonal sex!
> 
> I adore each and every one of you. Honestly. (Comments feed the muse - please don't abandon me just yet!)

Mycroft woke sometime in the earliest hours, blinking the haze from his eyes as he took in the darkness of the room. He frowned into his pillow as he attempted to discern what had awakened him. He often slept restlessly due to the stress that he had to deal with in his working life bleeding into his dreams, but he wasn’t feeling the odd jitteriness that usually lingered afterward, so why was he awa- _ohhh..._

He bit his lip as Greg huffed out an almost sub-vocal moan very nearly right in his ear, grinding his half-hard cock into Mycroft’s backside. His teeth dug in a bit deeper as he writhed against the sudden pressure in his own groin, his prick throbbing pleasantly as it sprang to attention. Holy God, what was this man _doing_ to him?

Typically, Mycroft was not one to entertain sexual thoughts in his everyday life, feeling almost as though his bi-annual heats expended all stores of his carnal energy. But he was swiftly coming to realise that perhaps he simply hadn’t found the person who held the key to that particular vault before now. Yes, he had first noticed and had been attracted to the Alpha that he had encountered on the street, but now he found himself longing almost unbearably for the man that was currently sharing his bed.

It was such a novel sensation that Mycroft felt the undeniable urge to explore it, indulging himself as he shifted slightly, covertly rubbing against the mattress. Greg whimpered quietly behind him, a soft sound of desperation that made Mycroft shiver with delight. He squirmed fully over onto his belly (thankfully once again at peace) and strained his eyes to watch as the shadow of his lover shifted onto his back, his hips thrusting upward faintly.

Mycroft dug his teeth into his bottom lip a bit harder as he looked at Greg’s cock, already plump and nudging at the open fly of his boxers. Blinking as he felt an ache deep inside, Mycroft slid off the bed very slowly, his stomach churning with nervous excitement as he slipped his pants off. He dipped his hand into the bedside drawer, curling his trembling fingers around the bottle of lube.

Unsure of his own intentions, knowing only that he needed to be near his Alpha, he stealthily climbed back onto the mattress, spreading his thighs wide as he knelt next to his fitfully slumbering lover. Holding his breath in a vain attempt to quiet the thundering of his heart, Mycroft slicked up his fingers and slid them down below. His pent-up air hissed through his teeth as his middle finger slid in easily, his arsehole twitching hopefully at the sudden recollection of how wonderful Greg’s cock had felt just the night before, filling him so beautifully.

It seemed almost as though his Alpha’s cock was recalling the very same thing, as it jerked against its restriction, a small patch of damp spreading out over the cotton. Still moving as stealthily as he could, Mycroft reached out and very gently tugged at Greg’s fly, probing at the thick flesh until it broke free. Blushing fiercely even as he shook his head at his own forwardness, he hunkered down low to sniff at his mate’s crotch.

Although somewhat mellowed by sleep, Greg’s scent was still spicy, tickling at the back of Mycroft’s throat and making his salivary glands twinge. He hastily swallowed the minor flood that filled his mouth as he pushed and pulled down below. Inhaling deeply, Mycroft exhaled warm breath over Greg’s cock, watching avidly as it twitched to full hardness.

Greg murmured something incomprehensible, his fingers scrabbling softly against the mattress as he tilted his hips in a fruitless thrust. Mycroft sucked in another deep breath as his nose brushed against the silky-hot skin, sliding an additional finger into his body. He clenched down, trembling minutely as he pondered the ease of his self-violation. He had not needed to add any more lube, and there had been no unpleasant twinges when he introduced the second digit. Mycroft gingerly began to probe with a third finger, gasping almost silently as it too went in with very little resistance. Perhaps he was closer to his heat than he realised - or perhaps his Alpha had made more of a lasting impact last night than he had been fully aware of.

Either way, his body seemed to be fully in accordance with whatever his libido was planning. Distracted by the sadly inadequate sensation of his fingers, Mycroft let the saliva that was still building up in his mouth drip out over Greg’s cock. Without thinking on it too deeply, he ducked his head and licked it up, flattening his tongue as he ran it up the entire length. Greg trembled underneath him, his breath hitching on a low moan.

Mycroft hummed as he closed his lips around the head of Greg’s cock, tentatively dabbling his tongue over the slit, coating the inside of his mouth with the pre-come that was flowing out at a fairly steady rate. Mycroft squirmed as Greg’s fingers skipped over his shoulders, travelling down to wrap around his upper arms. “C’mere.” Mycroft obeyed the slurred demand, whimpering softly as Greg’s cock slipped from his mouth and he retrieved his fingers from the slick clench of his own body. While he was very much looking forward to enjoying this treat in full in the future, it seemed as though both he and his Alpha had other ideas at the moment.

Greg’s hands were clumsy with sleep, but still gentle and exploratory as they wandered down Mycroft’s back, caressing his arse and clutching at his thighs. His tongue was thick and languid as they kissed, making Mycroft’s cock jump with each careful lick along his lips, with each deep rolling hum into his mouth. They snogged with abandon, their erections sliding slickly against one another, until Mycroft simply couldn’t stand it anymore.

Greg pushed up against him, seemingly content just to frot mindlessly, but Mycroft would not be deterred. He knew what he needed to assuage that ache deep inside, and was determined to take it. He shifted to the side only long enough to yank Greg’s pants down and off, leaving them crumpled at the foot of the bed. With a lift of a questioning eyebrow, Mycroft waited for that little gleam of understanding to bloom in Greg’s half-open eyes, waited for the slow nod of assent. Then he straddled his Alpha again, reaching behind to hold him in place as he slowly and deliberately impaled himself.

He settled into place with a full-throated groan, finding himself a bit startled as it echoed through the darkened room. Greg’s fingers kneaded at the meat of Mycroft’s arse as his palms cradled his hips, a swift shudder wracking his body. Mycroft bit his lip at the sound of a soft curse, rolling his hips and grinding down just to hear it again. He trailed his fingers up Greg’s body as he moved, fighting to maintain a leisurely pace. His instinct was to go hard and fast, to simply use the divine instrument buried deep inside to seek immediate relief, but the dreamlike atmosphere in the room somehow felt too sacred to disturb in that manner.

And so he moved slowly, deliberately, rocking back and forth, squeezing down as Greg sedately pushed up into him, their feet tangling in the discarded bedding as he braced himself against the mattress. With his sight reduced to vague shadows, Mycroft closed his eyes and concentrated on his other senses. Touch, in the joining of their bodies and in the trembling of his core every time the flared head of Greg’s cock bumped against his prostate. Sound, in the soft rush of Greg’s breath as he pushed it out of his lungs with each languid thrust, every exhalation a sigh of exquisite pleasure. Smell, in the sharpening aroma of his own sweat, overlaid with the scent of his mate, that spicy musk that tickled at the back of his nose and  threatened a sneeze at any moment.

The scent was enough to make his mouth water, but just as the thought occurred to him to bend down and take a taste of his lover’s skin, Greg’s hands moved. Mycroft threw his head back with a gasp as his cock was taken in a firm grip, the ball of Greg’s thumb rubbing persistent circles over his frenulum with each stroke. Greg’s other hand wandered with intent, squeezing at his bum and stroking along his belly, tweaking at his nipples and somehow finding a home with two fingers stuck in Mycroft’s mouth.

He moaned thickly and sucked mindlessly as they both began to move together, no longer sedate and leisurely, but with hard purpose. Greg was muttering guttural praises as he fucked up into Mycroft’s body, telling him how lucky he was to have found such a beautiful mate, how wonderful he felt as he rode his cock like a good little Omega, how he was going to make his Alpha so fucking _happy_... The surge of pride that lit up in Mycroft’s chest did just as much to speed him toward his release as the hand on his cock did. When Greg planted his feet and pushed up hard with a low growl, his cock pulsing deep, Mycroft clamped down with everything in him, his spine contracting as he shivered himself to pieces and came all over his mate’s belly.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment, my dears! I heart you all!!

Greg’s fingers slipped from Mycroft’s mouth as he sank back against his upraised knees, tipping his face up to the ceiling as he came back to himself. Greg hummed underneath him, and Mycroft smiled as he felt the faintest of vibrations deep in his own core. He rode out the trembling undulations of his mount’s body as Greg regained his breath, feeling almost as if he were being borne aloft by a gentle current.  

Mycroft shook himself as he felt a slight trickling below, pulling a face in the darkness. It was only as he started to shift that he became aware of motion somewhere in front of him, and he reached out blindly to ascertain what it was. His fingers touched the back of Greg’s hand just as it was pulled away, and his eyes went wide at the sound of thick fingers being sucked clean.

“Gregory, are you - good Lord.”

Mycroft gingerly laid his palm on Greg’s belly, finding it somewhat tacky to the touch, but the mess that he knew he had left behind was conspicuously absent.

He shook his head as Greg hummed again, deep with sticky contentment. “Sweet as honey. Like ambrosia.”

Mycroft bit his lip against his moan, almost able to _hear_ the self-satisfied smile on his Alpha’s face. “You...” He shook his head again as he started to shuffle off the mattress, pausing as a hand sought out his in the dark.

“C’mere.”

“In a moment. I just need to...”

Greg blew a halfhearted raspberry, clearly well on his way to succumbing back to sleep. “Just use m’pants.”

Mycroft lifted Greg’s hand and kissed his fingers, leaning down to whisper, “You soiled me far too thoroughly, my Alpha.”

Greg shuddered delightfully, making the mattress tremble underneath them. With only a minute tightening of his fingers, he released his grip, letting his arm fall stretched out on Mycroft’s side of the bed.

Mycroft hastened into the bathroom, snagging a flannel by touch and running the water in the sink very hot to aid in his clean-up. He brought it back with him when he returned to bed, his heart seeming to throb with each of his mate’s contented snores. He was as gentle as he could be, swiping up the barest traces of his come off Greg’s belly, as his Alpha had left very little behind. Mycroft took great pains and perhaps more time than necessary as he diligently scrubbed at Greg’s nethers, ostensibly to avoid waking him, but of course he was just taking the opportunity to admire him further.

Greg grunted faintly and shifted to spread his legs, allowing Mycroft a bit more room to work, and the wave of scent that rose up to curl around his nose nearly started him off again. He could smell the hint of his own scent now, deep dark chocolate overlaid with the spice of his mate’s, somehow mellow and sharp all at once and oh good God it was delicious and how much _more_ would it be during his heat, during his Alpha’s rut? Was this how he might smell to others of their kind after Greg had claimed him in every conceivable manner?

Blushing fiercely, Mycroft stuck one corner of the soiled flannel in his mouth, his eyes rolling back as he worked his tongue against the fabric. He ripped it away and tossed it to the floor before he got too worked up, his bloody cock already twitching helplessly against the onslaught of hormones. Close - he was already too close, and if he didn’t get ahold of himself, he’d turn into a bloody animal.

Mycroft slid down in the bed, cuddling up close to his Alpha, breathing in the subtle sense of calm that Greg was exuding, of peace and comfort. He sighed as his mate’s solid body shifted, pulling him in closer, burying his nose in his hair. With a low rumble of approval, Greg pulled him into his chest and down into a dreamless slumber.

It was a similar rumble that woke him a scant two or three hours later, and Mycroft whined in protest even as he pushed into the press of Greg’s lips on his forehead. He tried to open his eyes, but Greg shushed him, gently brushing the tips of his fingers along his closed lids and down his cheeks.

“Sorry, sweetheart - got called in.” Greg sighed deeply. “Looks like an ugly one, too. No idea when I’ll be home.”

Mycroft heart soared at the word _home_ , and his lips turned up against Greg’s throat as his Alpha ran his nose over his temple, puzzling over the scent of soap on his skin. “How did you - without waking me?”

Greg chuckled low. “I _can_ be very sneaky, but I think it might have more to do with that glorious shag you started in the middle of the night. Knocked yourself right out.”

“Ah.” Mycroft felt his cheeks start to heat up, but he refused to allow himself to actually feel any embarrassment.

“Mm.” Greg nipped gently at his chin before humming against his lips, licking his way in as Mycroft eagerly granted him entrance. “Made me feel so good, Omega mine. Almost felt like a dream.” Mycroft frowned faintly as a damp cloth was pressed into his hand. “Until I nearly tripped over this, of course.” Mycroft’s fingers twitched around the flannel that he had so thoughtlessly tossed aside in the earliest hours. Greg growled low and nibbled at Mycroft’s ear. “Gave myself a bit of a wipe with it before my shower, should be nice and stinky for you.”

Mycroft whimpered as his cock throbbed gently. “Horrible man.”

“Love knowing that I get you so worked up, Omega mine.” Greg trailed his fingers down Mycroft’s body, circling his navel and tickling at the very edges of his pubic hair. “And if I didn’t have to be at the Yard twenty minutes ago, I’d work you up even more. Turn on all the lights so I could watch this time as that beautiful body of yours rides my cock, working me so deep inside...”

Mycroft hissed as his hips bucked. “Gregory, for God’s sake!”

Greg burst out laughing, swiftly bending down to blow a raspberry against an unguarded nipple. “Right you are - sorry, sweetheart.” Mycroft stopped writhing as Greg pressed their foreheads together, sensing a subtle shift in his mood. “I’m just...” Greg heaved out a sigh as Mycroft reached up to cradle his head, feeling his lips turn up against the corner of his mouth. “I’m just so _happy_.” He giggled gently as Mycroft tugged on his hair. “Makes me a bit cheeky, I guess.”

“Under other circumstances, I would encourage said cheekiness. But you have obligations to honour.”

“And you have sleep to catch up on.”

Mycroft clucked his tongue. “Rather impossible until a certain distraction is out of the house and a persistent nuisance is wrestled into submission.”

Greg blustered out a chuckle. “Jesus, but you’re adorable.” The smile quickly turned into a pout. “Wish I didn’t have to go.”

“Soon, my Alpha. Very soon, and we’ll have one whole week all to ourselves, with no cares outside this room. Just you and me, and a whole stack of linens to defile.”

Greg groaned low, almost drowning out the sudden trilling of his mobile. “Ah, fuck.”

“Go, Gregory. I’ll be waiting for your return.”  

Greg sighed and pressed another gentle kiss to his forehead before heaving himself to his feet. “I’ll keep you updated.” He paused in the bedroom doorway, little more than an outline against the dim light raising in the corridor. “Love you, Omega mine.”

“And I love you, my Alpha.”

Mycroft rolled over onto his belly as there was the sweet sound of a kiss being blown in his direction, hiding his smile in Greg’s pillow until he heard the front door open and close. Only then did he lift the gloriously aromatic flannel to his face, slowly grinding down on the mattress as his cock throbbed with each hearty sniff.

Just a week prior, he would have been appalled by his own behaviour, but now he could find absolutely no shame in his mind. His Alpha had wiped all that away. The smell of his soon-to-be mate filled his head and he moved with more urgency, finally sliding up onto his knees to grant more freedom of movement.

In a brief moment of wicked inspiration, Mycroft seized Greg’s pillow and shoved it between his thighs, riding it in much the same fashion as he had his Alpha only a few hours before. Spying Greg’s pants still lying discarded at the foot of the bed, he snatched those up as well, giving them the briefest of sniffs before rubbing up against those as well. He worked himself hard, very little in his mind beyond, _he is mine now, all mine, my love, my mate, my Alpha, mine all mine no-one shall ever touch him again he is mine and I am all his ohhhh..._

Mycroft caught his release in the cotton material of Greg’s pants, his pulse thudding in his head with the force of it, his brain swimming in the hormonal aftermath. He collapsed onto his side, curling up around his Alpha’s pillow, almost immediately falling right back to sleep.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On a good roll now - hope it continues!
> 
> Please do comment - they feed the muse!
> 
> ~xoxoxo~

Mycroft woke for a third time that morning at a far more reasonable hour, indeed, a little _too_ reasonable, considering that he was usually in the office at this time of the morning, and would have already completed a great deal of work. Groaning faintly at the pleasant soreness in his muscles and - other - places, he shifted to sit up against the headboard, looking with faint amusement at the shambles of his bedding. Only the second night with this man, and he’d already turned into an irredeemable tart.

Grinning foolishly at himself, Mycroft reached for his phone and dialled Anthea.

“Good morning, Mr. Holmes. Has it begun?”

“Not just yet, Anthea, although due to uncertainty on the timing, I will begin my leave this afternoon, and through the next week.” Mycroft paused at her little hum of understanding. “You may forward any business that you feel needs my attention to my secured email until then.”

“Understood, Mr. Holmes.” There was a pause on the line, and Mycroft tilted his head as something in his assistant’s voice warmed slightly. “I - we, that is, George and I - we wanted to wish you all the best, sir. You and the Detective Inspector, of course.”

Mycroft blinked rapidly and swallowed down the lump in his throat. It hadn’t really been discussed, mostly because his associates knew better than to pry in his personal affairs, but they all understood that he would be returning to the office as a changed man. As odd as it was, having their blessing was both a relief and an acknowledgement that he was doing the right thing.

“I will - pass that along to him. Thank you, Anthea. Thank George for me as well, please.”

“Let us know if you need anything. Anything at all.”

“Certainly, my dear. Goodbye.”

Mycroft rang off and sat in silence for a few moments, gathering his thoughts. Although he would be spending most of the day setting business in order for his week-long absence, he also needed to be sure that all the proper supplies would be laid in at home. Before setting his plans for the day into action, Mycroft once again turned to his mobile and the messages that Greg had left for him.

 _‘Hope you slept well after your wank, Omega mine.’_ Mycroft rolled his eyes as his cheeks burned, biting his lip hard and moving on to the next. _‘I was right - this case is ugly as hell. Some fucked up Romeo & Juliet shit, four people dead and one in hiding. Not even sure how we’ll charge the little bastard once we catch up to him. Teenage hormones, good fucking God.’ _

Mycroft snorted as he finally rolled to his feet and headed toward the bathroom, taking his mobile with him. He started the shower and sent off a response while it heated.

 _‘I slept rather like the dead, thank you very much, and I’m not entirely sure that either you or I are in a position to pontificate about the negative effects of raging hormones, my Alpha.’_  

Typically, Mycroft’s showers were about ten minutes at the most, practical and efficient - brisk affairs to set the mood for the day. Today, he took his time luxuriating under the hot spray, acutely aware of the welcome heat sinking into his muscles, loosening and stretching them until the aches were mere afterthoughts. His mind very quickly bypassed the novelty of actually focusing on the function of his own body, instead choosing to contemplate the function of another body altogether.

Mycroft closed his eyes as he ran the soap over himself, shivering as he recalled their shared shower just a couple of nights ago. It had been a far more intimate act than anything Mycroft had ever shared with another man, but it hadn’t been sensual. For the first time in his life, he found that he _wanted_ sensual, slow and deliberate. He wanted to lavish attention on his mate and bask in his adoration in turn, wanted to explore and be explored with little more than heat and breath.

The upcoming week wouldn’t be the time for that - heats were always messy and frantic, he barely even took the time to feed himself properly; there would definitely be no time to make love. But then... He had obviously never undertaken a heat with a bonded partner before, either. In everything he had read, it was an entirely different experience. Perhaps it wouldn’t be nothing but mindless fucking - maybe he would finally get what he wanted after all...

Mycroft shook the notion firmly out of his mind as he felt a hearty twitch down below, very nearly rolling his eyes at the absurdity of his cock rallying itself for yet _another_ go. He didn’t recall that he had ever been this excited before - not even as a teenager just discovering what it even meant to be an Omega. Resolving to save his energies for Greg, Mycroft aimed the shower head down low and turned the temperature to its coldest setting. He took an almost perverse pleasure in his own yelp of dismay, forcing himself to endure until a certain piece of his anatomy had retreated as far up into his body as was physically possible.

Only then did he exit the cubicle, immediately wrapping a plush terry robe around his body and crouching on the closed toilet until he stopped shivering. His mobile pinged at him from its place near the sink, and Mycroft felt himself blush as he sprang to his feet to grab it.

 _‘You’re just now getting up? Slugabed. Was going to remind you to eat breakfast, but guess I’ll have to nag you to eat lunch instead! ;-p’_ Mycroft tilted his head and frowned at the the odd assortment of punctuation marks. Was Greg actually miming sticking his tongue out at him? _‘Can’t say you’re wrong about the hormones, but at least we have age and experience to help temper the effects. This kid, well, kids... I dunno.’_

Mycroft bit his lip, pausing with his thumbs over the keys. _‘Would you like to talk about it?’_

The answer came almost immediately. _‘Can’t - not yet. Ongoing investigation and all. Just about to go run down another lead, in fact. And I’m sure you have work to do too. After you eat something, Omega mine.’_

Mycroft smiled fondly, blinking back an odd welter of tears. _‘Yes, my Alpha. Good luck.’_

He received a long string of hearts and lip-prints in return, feeling almost giddy with the sweetness and well - ridiculousness of it all. In all honesty, he rather did feel like a teenager experiencing his first crush, and he had absolutely no idea what to do about it all. Catching a glimpse of himself in the bathroom mirror, he decided that the first order of business would be taming his hair, which had taken his distraction as an opportunity to dry into a frizzy mass.

Once he was properly coiffed, Mycroft outfitted himself casually, but not _too_ casual, as he was meant to actually get some work done and not just sprawl about on the sofa the entire day. Before heading downstairs he took stock of the kitchenette in the corner of the bedroom, noting which items needed to be replenished and which needed to be replaced. Mycroft had never bothered to consider what his heatmates might prefer, and so most of the items tended to be light and inoffensive - yoghurt and broth were quickly consumable, and easy on his often irascible stomach.

But he thought that Greg might appreciate something a bit heartier - canned stew, perhaps? Ruminating over the options in his mind, Mycroft headed downstairs to the kitchen, adding items to his grocery order as he brewed a cup of tea. Heading towards his downstairs study with tea in hand, he abruptly turned around halfway down the corridor and went back into the kitchen to fix himself a simple sandwich, unable to banish his Alpha’s disapproving glare from the forefront of his mind.

The rest of the day was spent responding to emails and pointing out certain tasks to Anthea that would need to be completed while he was away. When his groceries arrived, Mycroft spent rather a pleasant hour or so arranging things to his liking; at first alphabetising by the labels on the cans and then sorting by broth-based versus cream-based, and so on. It took him longer than it should have for him to realise that he was nesting, and his heartbeat ticked up just a measure.

Oh, it would be very soon, now.

He received a rather jubilant text from Greg around seven in the evening, informing him that they had caught the _‘little fucking rat bastard son of a bitch’_ , but that he would now begin the interview process, which could last hours, and no mobiles were allowed in the interrogation rooms. A little frowny face preceded a demand that Mycroft feed himself yet again, and he simply had to giggle through the warm bubble of joy in his chest.

With his stomach sedately full of leftover pasta and all of his business wrapped up and safely bundled into Anthea’s care, Mycroft allowed himself to stretch out on the sofa, dozing lightly as _The Court Jester_ played on the telly. It was nearing midnight as he heard the scratching of a key at the front door lock, and he sat bolt upright, momentarily confused not to find himself in bed. Hastening to turn off the television, Mycroft smoothed his hands through his hair and tugged his jumper down before going out into the foyer to meet Greg.

The man that stood swaying by the door bore little resemblance to his normally lively Alpha, his shoulders slumped, his eyes weary and haunted. Even his hair seemed to be drooping over his brow with exhaustion. He mumbled something incomprehensible as Mycroft reached for him, helping him to discard his mack and leading him upstairs. Greg followed along rather meekly, his fingers twitching in Mycroft’s hold.

He stood by the foot of the bed in silence as his clothing was removed from his body, his dark eyes softening as he watched his Omega at work tending to him. Mycroft paused after undoing Greg’s trousers, letting them flump inelegantly to the floor. He reached up to cradle his Alpha’s face, pressing a gentle kiss to slack lips.

“Would you like me to bring you something to eat?”

Greg very nearly recoiled right out of Mycroft’s hold with the force of the face he pulled. “God no - wouldn’t be able to stomach it, not after...” He let his voice trail away as he shifted out of the bundle of clothing at his feet. “Sleep. Just need a good, hard sleep.”

“As you wish, my Alpha.” Mycroft felt his spirits lift as Greg smiled at him, something soft and full of wonder. He hummed low as Greg wrapped his arms around his waist, leaning his cheek on his shoulder and burying his face in his neck. They stood there for a long, peaceful moment, swaying in place until Greg’s legs wobbled almost imperceptibly. Mycroft reluctantly stepped back, nudging his mate toward the bed. “In with you, now.”

Greg quirked a sleepy grin at him, quickly shimmying out of his pants and crawling into bed completely nude. Mycroft’s fingers twitched to reach out and touch, but as Greg flumped face-down in his pillow with a low groan, he knew that it would hardly be fair. Instead he went to the wardrobe, stripping down to his pants and vest. He eyed his pyjamas, but left them hanging, just as he had the night before.

Mycroft stopped to listen to Greg snoring softly before crossing over to the toilet, taking care of essential business. Straightening up from the sink after cleaning his teeth, his head spun with an almost alarming bout of vertigo. Mycroft carefully breathed through it, keeping his eyes shut tight and clutching at the edge of the sink until his head stopped spinning.

Cautiously looking at his pale complexion in the mirror, he felt an odd mixture of excitement and dread swirling deep in his belly. Mycroft picked his way carefully back to bed, looking down at his Alpha’s naked backside. Suddenly feeling the need for skin on skin, he discarded his underthings and slid up close to Greg’s slumbering form, shivering as he turned just so and pressed up against him.

Pulling at the sheets, getting himself settled, Mycroft clutched at his Alpha’s body as the first hint of fever sparked behind his eyes. Greg made soothing noises in his sleep, unconsciously twining their fingers together and bringing them up to his chest. Mycroft buried his nose in the back of Greg’s neck, hoping beyond hope that his mate's scent would help to ease the way.

Tomorrow, his heat would break. He was sure of it.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Mycroft... At least he's got Greg to help him through.
> 
> Please do help to feed the muse!

Mycroft blearily blinked his gummy eyes as he fought to wake fully, his limbs heavy and body unwieldy with fatigue. Although he truly felt like shit, excitement lingered in the back of his mind at the thought that by the end of the day, he may very well be a bonded Omega. Frowning slightly at the sensation of the mattress trembling underneath him, he very carefully rolled onto his back. He swallowed against the unpleasant sensation of bile rising in his throat before rolling to face Greg so he could ascertain just what his bedmate was up to.

His frown deepened as he watched Greg’s hand moving slickly over his engorged cock, something in the motion desperate and yet rather restrained. With his eyes shut tight and his brow creased with fierce determination, it was somewhat obvious that his Alpha was not seeking pleasure, but merely release. Mycroft’s mouth went dry even as he congratulated himself on the foresight to lay in supplies the afternoon before. He knew that his own internal disquiet was undoubtedly the onset of his heat, which meant that Greg was entering his rut - and he seemingly had no idea what to do about it. He had clearly felt the need for relief, but he was not yet so far gone as to disturb Mycroft’s restless sleep and had very considerately taken matters into his own hands.

Mycroft eyed the rather crusty vest that was balled up on Greg’s other side, pondering just how many times in the early morning hours he had been compelled to take himself in hand. Grimacing faintly, he reached out and ever so lightly trailed his fingers up Greg’s thigh, biting his lip as he moaned and spread his legs. Hesitating for the briefest of moments, watching as Greg’s hand squeezed and twisted around the head of his cock, Mycroft took hold of the root. He flexed his fingers around the slight bulging there, the skin hot to the touch and rather loose, preparing to inflate into a sizeable knot. Greg’s body jerked, his eyes flashing open in surprise. When they fixed on Mycroft’s face, he showed his teeth and squeezed _hard_.

Greg sucked in an abrupt breath and seemed to hold it as his body seized, his cock jumping in their individual grips and striping his chest and belly with a rather substantial load. His breath whooshed out of him as Mycroft released his hold, clutching at his stomach and whimpering pitifully as he doubled over. After the lowest of curses, the mattress bounced underneath Mycroft’s body as Greg vaulted toward the bathroom, quickly coming back with the empty rubbish bin.

Carefully rolling him over so his head was dangling over the side, Greg ran his fingers through Mycroft’s sweat-dampened hair as his stomach heaved. Thankfully nothing substantial came up, and Mycroft shuddered as he was suddenly wracked with chills. Moving swiftly to untangle the bedding, Greg pulled up the sheets and blankets, tucking them in around his Omega’s shivering body.

He caressed Mycroft’s face with the gentlest of touches. “Tell me what you need, love.”

Mycroft shuddered again, a single tear dropping from his red-rimmed eyes as he squeezed them shut against the pain in his head. “You. Just y-you.”

Humming low, Greg vanished for just a moment behind the screen that hid the kitchenette from view, crawling back into bed with a bottle in his hand. Mycroft creakily rolled over as his Alpha got himself situated, wrinkling his nose but obediently sipping at some water as he was silently bade.

Curling up into his Alpha’s side, Mycroft reached out to wipe up a streak of come that was lingering on Greg’s chest, idly licking at his soiled finger before sticking it deep into his mouth. Barely registering the low moan that echoed through the room, Mycroft blinked in surprise as his stomach stopped quivering for the briefest of moments. Frowning in concentration, he weakly pushed himself up and slithered his legs over Greg’s thighs, straddling him.

Admonishing him to keep still with a silent glare, Mycroft lowered his head and methodically began to lick his Alpha clean. Whether it was in the remnants of his come, or perhaps in the salty-sweet taste of his sweat, there was some unknown element there that was inexplicably keeping the nausea at bay, and he kept moving down until Greg’s skin was pink and gleaming with his saliva.

Mycroft sat up slowly, trying to ignore the fever flush of his skin that was making him tremble in the cool air of the room. He blinked as Greg writhed against the mattress, biting his bottom lip hard as he clenched his fists in the bedding, clearly trying to hold himself back even as his cock bobbed up impatiently. “I need more.” Mycroft put his hand over his lower belly, cautiously feeling out the bloating that indicated that his slick was building up. He ran his hand up, grimacing as his head swam with more than just the heat in his brain, the nausea beginning to creep back in around the edges of his senses.

 _“Mycroft.”_ Greg’s voice was thick with disbelief and undeniable lust.

“More, Gregory. I think it’s helping with the, uh...” He waved his hands in a vague up and down and all around motion. “Everything, really.” He put on a cunning expression as he slid down Greg’s legs a bit further, crouching down low and looking up at him over the head of his fully erect cock. “Give me more, my Alpha. Or I’ll just have to take it.”

Greg sighed and moaned all at once, his body tensing underneath Mycroft’s as he reached for his cock, already dripping pre-come. “Do that, and you’ll go and make yourself sick.” He lifted his head as Mycroft manoeuvred between his legs, settling down and pushing his nose into the soft skin of his bollocks. “I would advise that you try your damnedest not to vomit on my bits, Omega mine.”

Despite his light-headedness, Mycroft giggled merrily, nearly going cross-eyed as Greg’s hand began to move right in front of his face. Swallowing hard, he scooted down just a bit further, lying on his belly and reaching up to wrap his arms around Greg’s thighs as he spread them wide, planting his feet on the mattress. Mycroft sighed happily as his Alpha gave him what he was seeking without a moment’s hesitation, exposing himself to him fully.

Humming to himself, Mycroft closed his eyes and nuzzled into Greg’s groin, running his lips and nose over coarse damp curls and sticky sweat-drenched skin. He groaned quietly as he took in a solid breath heavy with spice and musk, redolent of rich loam and moss. Mycroft had to admonish himself to keep his breaths steady and calm so as not to induce hyperventilation. But oh, that scent… Not only did it quell the queasiness, the slight vertigo, it seemed to somehow both cool his overheated brain and ignite an altogether different kind of heat deep in his belly.

Feeling almost as though he was floating above it all, that he may simply drift away if he wasn’t careful, Mycroft sought to anchor himself, digging his nails into Greg’s legs as he opened his mouth and sank his teeth into the tender flesh of his inner thigh. He clamped down harder as Greg jumped and cursed, relishing the bright bloom of copper on his tongue as his Alpha’s scent spiked with pain and almost overwhelming lust.

Mycroft slowly unlatched himself as the pace of Greg’s stroking seemed to increase, licking languidly at the wound that he had left behind. Even though there was still a hint of queasiness roiling around in his belly, the lingering taste of his Alpha’s blood had apparently awakened a faint hunger, and he grimaced as his stomach growled uneasily.

He blindly turned his head toward a vaguely inquisitive grunt from above, shaking his head slightly. “Fine. M’fine. Keep going.”

Mycroft sighed as Greg groaned, once again ducking his head low and burrowing deeper into the wellspring of his Alpha’s scent, nosing underneath his bollocks and flickering the tip of his tongue over his perineum. His salivary glands twinged as they unleashed a minor flood, and Mycroft simply let it drip from his tongue as he swiped it under and over and around, shoving his face in deeper as Greg trembled against him.

With a subtle shift of his head, he slowly drew one of his Alpha’s testes into his mouth, gently tugging it away from the tight clench of his body. Curling his tongue around the soft, heavy sphere, Mycroft sucked at it languidly, writhing against the mattress as the salty-sweet taste made his cock twitch. Taking in a solid breath from his nose, Mycroft moaned low in his chest, rumbling out a rolling hum that seemed to come from somewhere deep in his belly.

Greg’s entire body went stiff as his hand froze on his cock, and he was barely able to spit out a frantic, “Myc, Myc - oh _fuck_!” before he was coming.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some filth, some sweetness... The prelude.
> 
> Kisses to you all - please comment!

Mycroft snarled as he scrambled up onto his knees, closing his lips over the head of his Alpha’s cock and swallowing down every hot blast of come. He growled mindlessly as he slid down, pushing against the seemingly immovable obstacle of Greg’s hand, huffing out a pleased hum as his prize was immediately relinquished to him. Taking in as much as he could, Mycroft firmly pressed his tongue to the underside, sucking deeply as he pulled off with a substantial pop.

He smiled faintly as Greg’s body jerked hard underneath him, his cock smacking gently against his spit-slicked lips. With a low if somewhat sticky moan of pleasure, Mycroft slowly opened his eyes and looked up at his Alpha. He didn’t know what it was that Greg saw in his face, but whatever it was made his seemingly spent cock twitch wildly, and another surprisingly hefty pulse of come splattered inelegantly over Mycroft’s chin.

He blinked disbelievingly as Greg groaned out an apology, simply shaking his head as he wiped up the filth with his fingers and promptly started sucking on them. Mycroft sat back on his heels as a slow draught of warmth slid into his belly, instantly calming the tumult within. He could still feel the fever burning behind his eyes and was all too aware of the ache of his joints loosening in anticipation of his upcoming trial, but the vague sense of vertigo, the taste of bile at the back of his throat - that had been obliterated.

Mycroft ignored the faint throbbing down below as he shakily crawled up Greg’s body and into his waiting arms, humming low as he was wrapped up in his somewhat sweaty warmth. Sighing happily as he buried his nose in his Alpha’s neck, breathing in the scent of his contentment, basking in his devotion and in his love, Mycroft fell fast asleep.

The next few hours were spent wallowing in a hazy miasma of pheromones in between snatches of uneasy slumber. Whenever Mycroft woke, Greg was right there beside him, whether it was to offer him water or fetching cool cloths for his fevered skin. Although there were one or two moments when it seemed that Mycroft may have needed the use of the bin, another injection of his Alpha’s ‘medicine’ finally made the queasiness subside for good.

After that particular booster, they had both been too stinky to abide one another, and Greg had carried Mycroft into the bath as easily as he would have lifted a child. He shushed his Omega’s weak protestations, settling into the tepid water with him and cleaning every inch of his body with gentle determination. Mycroft hissed quietly as the flannel ran over the back of his neck, stretching it out as Greg froze, his expression somewhat dubious.

Mycroft smiled as best he could and tugged the cloth from Greg’s fingers, bringing them up to the swollen gland. Gregory’s eyes widened slightly as he probed at it curiously, making Mycroft moan aloud, a quick shudder wracking through his frame. He nodded reassuringly as Greg withdrew, cupping his chin and running his thumb over his lips in silent veneration.

“Soon, my Alpha.”

Greg swiped the back of his hand over his mouth, sticking out his tongue and grimacing faintly. They both looked at the saliva smeared over his skin as Greg smacked his lips together. “Tingles.”

Mycroft swallowed hard. “B-bonding chemicals - antiseptic, and anaesthetic.”

He blinked as Gregory looked at him with something very like fear in his eyes, seeming to shrink into himself. “I don’t want to hurt you, Mycroft.”

“You won’t.” Mycroft swiftly crawled into Greg’s lap, splashing a bit of their bath water out onto the floor as he lifted his hands to his Alpha’s face. “You could never.” He brought their foreheads together, taking in the sweet scent of Greg’s breath. “A-and even if something does go awry-”

“I’ll take care of you.”

Mycroft smiled as Greg wrapped his arms around him, pressing their chests so close that they could feel the beat of the other’s heart. “We’ll take care of each other, my love.”

“Oh, Omega mine...”

Humming his agreement, Mycroft tilted his head just so, pressing his lips to his Alpha’s mouth, whimpering softly as they kissed lazily. Drawing back some unknown time later, his head swimming in a blissful haze, Mycroft swayed and frowned slightly. He stuck out his tongue. “‘S gone numb.”

With a wicked twinkle in his eye, Greg reached up to snag it between thumb and forefinger, tugging on it gingerly. “Hazard of snogging an Alpha preparing to bond, I suppose.” The twinkle faded slightly as they stared at each other, and Greg slid his hand down to rest over Mycroft’s heart. “You... Are you sure you want this? Are you sure you want _me_?”

Mycroft closed his hand over Greg’s, pressing it to his chest. “Never before have I even entertained the idea of bonding, my love. Throughout dozens of heats and partners that were simply sufficient at best, my only thought was to get it over and done with as quickly as possible.” He swallowed hard, feeling his heart beating wildly under his lover’s fingertips. “But when I saw you - I knew. I simply _knew_ that you were meant to be mine - my mate.” Mycroft took in a deep breath as Greg smiled softly at him, his eyes brimming with tears. “I make many difficult decisions during my average day - decisions that can have fateful consequences. This is the single most important decision I have ever made in my life, and yet, it was not in any manner difficult. It was instinctual. And I know - absolutely _know_ \- that it is the correct path toward my future. A future that I never took much joy in envisioning, but now... Oh, my love. You are going to make me so fucking _happy._ ”

Greg gasped in faux shock as he sniffled back the tears that had formed in his eyes. “Mycroft! Such language!”

They both broke down into giggles as the oddly sombre mood vanished, and Mycroft snuggled into his Alpha’s embrace. There was no need for him to seek assurances of his own, as his mate’s physiology was speaking to him very clearly indeed. If Greg’s mind was not resolved to their current course of action, his body would not be producing the chemicals necessary to ensure a solid bond. Mycroft allowed himself a little wriggle of joy, idly probing at his teeth with his numb tongue.

Greg hummed quietly, sliding his hands down to cup his bottom under the increasingly chilly water. “Come now - time to get you back to your nest.”

Mycroft grumped, but he obediently lifted himself off of his Alpha’s lap with a little groan, shakily settling his bottom on the edge of the tub as he dripped onto the bathmat. He closed his eyes as Greg followed him out, listening to the gurgling of the pipes as the tub emptied, giving himself over to a careful rubdown. Mycroft stayed where he was put as Greg’s body heat drifted away, once again employing his sense of hearing to determine that fresh sheets were being put on the bed and that a cool bottle of water would be waiting for him on the bedside table when he returned.

He bit his lip as he probed gently at the gland at the back of his neck, sliding his fingers down to run over his lower belly. Perhaps a couple of hours, maybe three at the most before his body would be fully receptive to his mate’s rut. One last nap, and then he’d be ready to begin a new stage in his life - that of a bonded Omega. Mycroft opened his eyes as the sharp bite of spice made his nose twitch, holding out his hand as his Alpha reached for him.

He fell eagerly into Greg’s embrace, taking the simplest and yet most complete joy in nothing more than the feel of his arms around him, in the warmth of his body and the thump of his heartbeat in his ear. Mycroft blinked slowly as he was lowered into bed, heaving out a deep sigh as his mate draped himself half over his back, pulling a cleanly-scented sheet over both of their heads and shutting out everything but the two of them, together.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *GULP*
> 
> And so it begins...
> 
> Kisses to all my lovelies - please comment, feed the muse - she's withering into nothing!

Mycroft woke to the sensation of his Alpha’s heartbeat throbbing between his legs and an odd absence of feeling at the base of his neck. Blinking the sleep from his eyes, he frowned slightly as he heard the rasping of a tongue gliding over his skin. Reaching back, he poked at the gland, his frown deepening as he was able to parse out the size and shape of it with his fingers, but realising that the area itself had gone completely numb.

There was some part of his brain that understood why, especially as Greg rumbled low and flickered his tongue over the tips of his fingers, making them tingle somewhat pleasantly. But there was another part, a deeper, more primal part that had hoped the anaesthetic wouldn’t be quite that effective. Although it was there to prevent the Omega from going into shock with the pain of the bond-bite, Mycroft almost _wanted_ to feel it, to experience every single part of this transition, the mind-numbing pain as well as the transcendental bliss.

His eyes rolled back in his head as Greg grunted quietly behind him, his hips jerking forward and pushing his rock-hard cock deeper between his thighs. Mycroft moaned as his legs clamped together almost involuntarily, hissing slightly as his mate’s fingers dug harder into his hip. As dearly as he wanted to feel his Alpha’s teeth in his neck, at this moment he needed to feel him deep inside even more. Mycroft squirmed as he felt a steady trickle of pre-come tickling against his bollocks, squeezing with his muscles and shivering as Greg’s cock throbbed heartily in response.

His own slick hadn’t released yet, but that didn’t mean that he was completely unreceptive. After all, in the short but blessed time that they had begun to get to know one another, Greg had been very diligent in demonstrating the importance of proper lubrication, and had made sure that they always had an ample supply on hand. Taking in a deep breath, Mycroft rolled onto his belly, smiling faintly as his Alpha whined, clearly unhappy that his cock was now exposed to the chilly air of the room and no longer ensconced in a pleasantly hot and moist environment.

Slowly pushing himself up on his knees as he reached into the bedside drawer, Mycroft turned his head and rasped out, “Fuck me.”

Greg’s face was already somewhat adorably befuddled with his impending rut clouding his brain, but it became even more so as his eyebrows drew together in consternation, his fingers twitching toward Mycroft’s backside. “Not ready.” His expression cleared somewhat as the bottle of lube was pushed into his hands, but even though there was a certain amount of greedy lust glimmering in the depths of his dark eyes, it was easily overridden by his mate’s innate caution and concern for his well-being.

Mycroft’s heart swelled with love even as his loins quivered unhappily, feeling that urge, that need to be filled, despite the lack of a proper heat. “Don’t care.” He waggled his bottom in Greg’s direction, giving out a silent cheer as he went up on his knees and started to shuffle towards him. “Please, my Alpha. Oh God, please _fuck_ me.”

He put his forehead to the mattress as he felt the first tentative touches, a gentle caress ghosting over the globes of his arse and in between. Greg hummed in pleased surprise as first one then a second slick finger slipped in with no resistance whatsoever, and Mycroft pushed back against the third, grinding into his mate’s hand with abandon. He yelped quietly as there was a sudden stinging slap to his rear-end, jerking forward involuntarily and snarling as he immediately pushed back only to find himself empty again.

He threw a glare over his shoulder and blanched slightly at the dark look that was being levelled at him, a look that told him clearly who was in charge at the moment. Biting his lip and letting his desperation colour his voice, Mycroft whimpered pitifully. “Need your cock, my Alpha. Need to feel you deep inside me. Please please _please..._ ”

Greg’s expression tightened as he reached down to stroke himself, spreading the artificial lubricant over his stiff prick. Mycroft nearly shivered himself to pieces as his mate drew closer, as he grasped the base of his cock and guided it to his entrance. They both groaned as it popped in with very little resistance, and Greg began to move in short, shallow strokes.

“Ngh, give me more - deeper!”

Rather than another wordless admonishment in the form of corporal punishment, Greg drew back and pushed forward, grunting with what sounded like discomfort. “Can’t.” Mycroft wheezed out a pained whine of his own, feeling a sharp twinge deep inside his guts. He held his breath as his mate shifted this way and that, awkwardly feeling his way around inside with his cock. “Something...” He tried another short thrust, his fingers digging hard into Mycroft’s hips as his cockhead bounced against that odd barrier. “Fuck, _ow_.”  

Mycroft felt something quiver behind his bellybutton, and he dipped his spine, stretching his arms out over his head. “Again, my Alpha.”

With a huff of breath and a low growl, Greg did as he had been commanded, delivering a much more decisive thrust and letting out a strangled shout as he broke through the membrane. Mycroft groaned loud and long as his slick began to rush out of his body, leaving behind that indefinable ache, that insatiable need to be filled again and again. He was barely even aware of Greg’s cock slipping free, conscious only of the rush of blood in his ears and the frantic thumping of his heart.

As the ache started to spread further down, as his head began to clear, he writhed against the odd sensation of something squirmy wriggling around and within his arsehole. Gasping out a garbled exclamation as his flesh began to tingle in a thoroughly distracting manner, Mycroft threw his head back and looked over his shoulder.

A fresh wave of slick rushed from his body as he took in the expression of total bliss on his Alpha’s face, his brow smooth and serene even as he shoved his tongue deeper into Mycroft’s hole rather viciously. Greg’s eyes rolled back as he licked and slurped, scraping his teeth over Mycroft’s pucker and eagerly grinding into him, smearing his slick all over his cheeks and chin. He lazily opened eyes that had gone utterly dark with arousal, smiling dreamily as his body swayed gently, almost as if he were drunk.

Keeping his eyes locked on Mycroft’s, Greg reached up between his legs and began to stroke his cock with long, steady pulls. Mycroft’s spine twisted at the glorious sensation and seemed to lock in place, temporarily paralysing him and leaving him completely at his Alpha’s mercy. He whined uncertainly, wanting this exquisite torment to never end and yet still feeling that undeniable need to be filled, to be _taken_.

His body finally quivered and let go of its involuntary tension, and Mycroft wheezed out a laboured breath, pushing against Greg’s tongue and rolling his hips into his hand. With a silent mantra of _‘more more more’_ running through his head, Mycroft put the top of his head to the mattress and panted as he looked between his spread thighs. Of course the angle was odd, but there was no mistaking that his Alpha’s body had fully adjusted itself for his rut.

Mycroft swallowed hard as he looked at Greg’s cock, a rather impressive specimen on its own, but now swollen to half again its normal circumference and seeming to be a good couple of inches longer. While Mycroft was well aware of the phenomenon and had been expecting something very like this, it was still a rather startling sight. After all, he had never known any of his previous heat-mates before taking them into his bed, and so he had nothing to measure them against while they were in the midst of their ruts. Not that he had particularly cared to, either.

Twisting himself up awkwardly as he reached for it, he groaned as Greg dug his nails into the flesh of his bottom and growled, clearly displeased that his tasty treat was trying to wriggle away from him. Mycroft pushed his rump up a bit higher as he curled in on himself, his mouth beginning to water as he looked at his Alpha’s glory, wondering how long Greg would be able to ignore it as it throbbed and twitched and dribbled out a steady stream of pre-ejaculate.

Although - he was so preoccupied with the seeming notion of drinking down every last ounce of his slick that perhaps he hadn’t even noticed. With a final push and a low cry of triumph, Mycroft’s fingers closed down around the shaft of his Alpha’s cock, and he gave it a hearty tug.

**Author's Note:**

> Not beta'd or brit-picked. Characters not mine, but the situation definitely is!
> 
> If you'd like to get notifications from tumblr, I'm at 'bitemebat.tumblr.com'. Come follow me, and you'll get pretty boys and soft kitties on your dash!


End file.
